


Till Kingdom Come

by bitmischievous, cheekiestcheeky



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, They live in a kingdom, fairytale AU, harry is a baker, how quaint, is that a thing?, louis is a prince
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-02
Updated: 2014-02-25
Packaged: 2017-12-16 21:41:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/866908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bitmischievous/pseuds/bitmischievous, https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheekiestcheeky/pseuds/cheekiestcheeky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In Astorya, everyone is guaranteed a generic happy ending – a Happily Ever After. But Prince Louis, a brazen young man on the brink of eighteen, has never really fancied the whole royal plot of things. It’s all been a tad too… cliché for his liking. He craves more than his story is set to give. And when a young man disguised as a knight catches his eye just days before he is set out to charm his assigned One True Love, disaster begins to brew. But Prince Louis is determined to achieve his Happily Ever After, no matter how far it strays from his Once Upon a Time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue / I

**Prologue**

Once upon a time, in the land of Astorya, there lived a boy named—

_Excuse me._ Boy?

**Oh. Yes, right, Louis, sorry.**

Once upon a time, in the land of Astorya, there lived a young prince by the name of Louis Tomlinson. With hair the color of sweet caramel and eyes that shone the blue of the skies on the clearest of days, he was a boy who was rarely ever given a hard time. As a child, it took only a trembling of the lower lip to be handed an extra biscuit from one of the cooks. Winning people over was one of his many talents.

Growing up in the Kingdom of Galisea, Prince Louis only ever knew the life of royalty. He was born in the castle, as were his four younger sisters (each with the same set of dazzling blue eyes), and their family had never experienced any upset from the Galisean people. The Tomlinson family was well respected by all, known all throughout the Astoryan lands, but that did not keep any of the Tomlinson children from the Astoryan rules and traditions.

Every person in Astorya was subjected to the same routine, made his or her way through the same basic story. From a young age they were faced with telltale tasks that would undoubtedly teach them new morals and build them new skills. Some hard, some easy, some happy, some sad, each assignment had its purpose, and the Astoryan people knew this. They followed each mission without question or fit, as each generation had done before them.

Louis found the tasks humorous from a young age (being put up against a ring of magical creatures at the fresh age of eight to Face Your Fears was certainly a highlight; his classmates were trembling and frightened, but Louis never shared such fears with his companions. He never had such physical fears, at least.) And as years wore on and the tasks became more meaningful and simultaneously less routine, Louis had settled well into the story he had been given. He had, without much surprise, become one of the good guys. He was brash and brazen, if not a tad haughty, and he took life by the reigns as often as he could. He had little fear and took no regrets, and somehow everything always worked out in his favor.

_Excuse you, you forgot the love of my life._

**I wasn’t finished, Louis.**

_I would hope not. You’re forgetting the most important part._

**Your Majesty, if I could continue your prologue?**

_As you were._

But in the days following his eighteenth birthday and the receiving of his One True Love assignment, Prince Louis experienced his first taste of uncertainty.

For the first time in his life, he would be faced with doubt and paralyzed by fear. He would come to question his own shameless actions. His mind would at long last battle with his heart, and for the first time since he was a little boy, Prince Louis would be scared – anxious that things would not end well, not this time around, not when the person he desired most held no proper role in his destined plot.

But that would not stop Prince Louis, who was determined to achieve his Happily Ever After, no matter how far it strayed from his Once Upon a Time.

~*~

**Chapter I**

When Prince Louis woke up that morning it was one of those hectic days that he didn’t quite enjoy. All the movement from place to place, the tedious decision making, and the absolute horror of rehearsal dinners. Louis tried to keep away from those things as often as he could. It was because of this that when the prince felt the sun creeping through the rich curtains on the wall and heard the noises taking place a floor below, he crept farther under his blankets and groaned.

“No,” he grumbled to himself.

But of course, Prince Louis was responsible and gentlemanly and if he had a duty, he’d adhere to it immediately.

He got up lazily, slipped on a robe and walked over to the tall drapes to pull them open, feeling the soft material slide between his fingertips. His eyes stung a bit at the sudden light, but he squinted them to let them adjust. Outside the great doors, Louis could see people moving around, bringing in barrels of fresh crops and the occasional chest full of meat for the massive feast he knew would be taking place tomorrow.

He swallowed a lump in his throat and walked back into his room to pick out something to wear. He ran his hand through the several pairs of trousers he had, his eyes falling on a set of tan ones with little bronze buttons. Without much thought, he pulled them out and set them on chair right next to his wardrobe. He picked out the matching shirt and vest as well before gathering it all up and padding into the bathroom connected to his chamber.

His feet met the cold floor beneath him and he flinched at the feeling, jumping a bit to get to the plush cream carpet by the sink, almost tripping over his own feet.

“Well, I am off to a great morning,” he said to himself, grabbing the green bottle next to the big basin and taking a swig. He held it between his lips for a moment, swishing it from one cheek to the other before spitting it out. It was some sort of spearmint substance his mum liked to buy, insisting it kept teeth clean. Louis didn’t mind the taste so he decided, why not use it?

With his face washed and his mouth fairly clean, the prince stripped off his robe and sleep wear to pull on the many layers of clothes he’d have to wear to be presentable. When he had finished fastening the buttons on his trousers and waistcoat, he tucked in his cravat and made sure it was shaped into a proper bow before fastening his shoes and tailcoat.

“So much for just bloody breakfast tea.” He sighed, running his hand through his hair and hoping it wouldn’t get any messier than it already was.

He left his room, closing the large wooden door behind him and made his way to the kitchens, taking the grand staircase at the end of the hall and then an immediate left. Once he heard the clattering of pans and people yelling, Louis knew he was in the right place.

There was a man pointing a spoon at a younger girl when Louis walked in. “Oi, I told you not so much cream, you daft-”

The prince cleared his throat. “Good morning,”

Everyone stopped to look at the door. Most of the people turned quiet and curtsied or bowed as proper etiquette and Louis returned the gesture. A rather plump woman with wild orange hair came over to the prince and curtsied herself. “Oh, good morning, Your Majesty. I didn’t see you walk in,” she said, quickly wiping her face off with a cloth. She had blue streaked across her forehead and flour down the front of her apron.

Louis smiled. “It is quite alright. I was just wondering if I could get a cup of tea and maybe a biscuit?”

The woman grinned, wide and toothy. “Of course, Your Majesty. Would you like sugar or cream?”

“Just sugar,” he replied, taking a seat on one of the stools. A girl around fifteen immediately wiped down the area in front of him, scrubbing off the little bits of frosting that clung to the wooden surface.

“It’s okay, do not worry about it, miss,” he said gently.

The girl looked up, doe-eyed and nervous, but nodded.

“Could you get me a slice of bread, though? Maybe with a bit of cheese.”

She nodded before asking, “What kind of cheese, sir?”

“Cream cheese is fine.”

She nodded furiously again before scampering off into a different direction. Louis looked up after the exchange to see everyone was still looking at him, waiting to serve his every need.

Louis resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “As you were.”

The bustle continued almost immediately, and Louis just sat there observing. Men and woman moved around the kitchen, cooking, baking, and organizing. All of the hard work was in preparation for the following day, which was not only Louis’ eighteenth birthday  _and_  Christmas Eve, but it was also the day Louis was assigned his One True Love.

He let out a long sigh.

“Here you go, Prince.”

The young girl had returned with a tray full off biscuits, bread, and a cup of tea with three sugar cubes. He gingerly took it and placed it in front of him, sipping the tea and adding two of the sugar cubes.

“Thanks, love,” he said gratefully, earning a blush from the young girl.

“At your service, sir,” she replied. She curtsied and then returned to a big ball of dough, where she began to pull off small chunks and roll them into what would be cookies for the festivities.

The woman from earlier came up to Louis again and the prince raised an eyebrow in question.

“Yes…?” he trailed off, momentarily forgetting the staff woman’s name. To his credit, he didn’t come to the kitchens that often.

“Rosa, sir,” she supplied.

Louis nodded. “Yes, of course. How may I help you, Rosa?”

She smiled. “I just wanted to ask whether you would prefer shortbread or chocolate cookies tomorrow, sir. Usually we leave it up to the princesses to pick, but they have decided to let you pick today, sir, considering.”

Louis hummed in understanding, sipping his tea and biting into a biscuit. “That is nice of them to let me pick. They usually pick chocolate, but I find them too sweet for my taste.” Rosa supplied an, “Of course,” while Louis kept talking. “I would say a nice little batch of shortbread should be fine. They are my mother’s favorite, as well.”

“Queen Jay has always been partial to those, yes.”

Louis grinned. “Well then we have a decision,” he said, finishing his tea and licking a bit of cream cheese from his finger.

“Speaking of my family, Rosa, have you seen my sisters at all today?” Louis asked, brushing crumbs off his trousers where they had fallen.

“I believe Princess Charlotte said she’d be in the gardens today with Princesses Daisy and Phoebe.”

“And Fizzy?”

Rosa took a second to ponder. “Princess Felecite stopped by earlier, mentioning something about the library.”

“Where she always is,” Louis muttered.

Rosa chucked, soft and genuine. “Yes, she’s quite fond of literature. My own Mary is, as well,” she said, pointing to the girl who had earlier brought Louis his breakfast. The prince glanced her way and nodded.

“Right, well Rosa, I must be off.”

But Rosa stopped him before he could leave, holding out a hand. “And if Queen Jay were to ask of your whereabouts, what shall I tell her?”

“Tell her I’ll be in the east gardens, taking a stroll.”

____

“Argh!”

A sword was thrust to the right of Louis’ hip and he carefully avoided it, putting the blade of his own there and pushing the offending weapon away.

After his stroll, Louis had found his sisters sitting under a tree. His eldest sister, Lottie, was studying while the twins played with some of the porcelain dolls they had received their last birthday. Lottie looked up curiously as she saw him approach and briefly acknowledged his presence before returning to her chemistry book. He sat down next to her on the yellow blanket she had laid out and read over her shoulder.

She huffed. “Louis, do you mind.” It wasn’t a question.

Louis snorted. “Just keeping up on my sciences, Lottie. Do not be rude.”

She rolled her eyes. “I am not, I just do not appreciate you breathing down my shoulder.”

“S’not proper etiquette,” Daisy supplied.

“Lottie told us that earlier when we tried to read, too,” Phoebe added.

“I see.” The prince laughed, scooting closer to the princesses to plant kisses to their foreheads. “Have you been good little ladies today? Staying out of trouble, I trust.”

“Hardly,” Lottie remarked behind her book.

“He did not ask you, Lottie. Go read with Fizzy or something,” Daisy said indignantly.

Louis chuckled. “What did you do, then?”

Lottie shut her book with a sigh. “They made one of the bakers drop all of the biscuits and then they tucked them into their dresses and ran off.”

Louis’ eyes were wide in surprise. “They did  _what_?”

“You heard.”

“And whose idea was it, hmm?” he turned to look at the twins, both of whom were smiling proud and toothy grins.

“Both of ours,” they said in unison.

“What did Mum say about that, though?”

Daisy let out a sigh. “She not to take any sandwiches. She never said anything about biscuits.”

“I’m pretty sure that is worse, Dais.”

She shrugged, a slight move of her tiny shoulders. “She needs to be more specific then.”

After that exchange, Louis had kissed them all goodbye before walking back into the castle and into the training room where a man stood in the center, fencing with a dummy.

And there he was now, struggling against being pinned to a wall by a blade.

“You’re getting better,” his instructor grunted. “Better than myself, I daresay. When did this happen?”

Louis just huffed his breaths out, his arms tensing to keep his blade stiff. “You are losing your touch?”

The man rolled his dark eyes, his arm going up to move the sticky brown fringe away from his line of vision. “Never.”

A silence hung on to the moment, only breaking for the occasional noise of exertion. “I sincerely doubt that,” Louis finally said. “I do not know, Ciro. You are definitely getting worse.”

With a flick of the man’s wrist, Louis’ sword was sent flying from his fingers and a few feet away. He stared after it, dazed and completely distracted. His attention was brought back when he felt himself being pushed down flat on the ground, the bite of a blade pressing into his neck.

“That’s rich, coming from a loser,” Ciro said finally, removing the sword and offering Louis a hand.

“Arsehole,” the prince mumbled, taking a firm grasp and pulling himself swiftly to his feet.

“Oi! I resent such words!”

Louis was about to reply when a gentle clearing of the throat drew his attention toward the door at the opposite side of the room. One of the help stood just inside the doorway, hands folded politely behind him as he awaited proper address. All he received was a grunt and an impatient, “Yes?”

“My apologies for interrupting, Your Majesty, but the Queen has requested your company.” 

The prince shot him an incredulous look. “ _Now_?”

“As soon as possible, she said would please her.”

Louis heaved a sigh for what felt like the fiftieth time that day – and it was only midday. How treacherous. “Did she happen to mention what for?” he asked of the servant, already handing his sword to Ciro.

The man at the door shook his head with a slight, fitting frown. “Only that she wishes to discuss tomorrow’s events with you, sir.”

“Ah, ah, of course,” Louis tut-tutted with a roll of his eyes.

“Your assignment?” Ciro wondered. All knew what an individual received on their eighteenth birthday; everyone did.

Louis nodded.

“One True Love,” they said in unison.

The prince sighed. “I cannot imagine what is left to discuss.”

“Your wellbeing, I would guess,” Ciro jested as he slid both of their swords into their proper sheaths. “My sister couldn’t sleep for a week’s time leading up to her eighteenth. Nearly worried herself sick over the silly thing.”

“Silly thing?” Louis snorted. “Are they not still madly in love with four children?”

“Hence the silliness of her worrying.” The fencing instructor straightened up with a grin and clapped the prince on the shoulder. “Least you’re not losing any sleep over this. Now hurry on,  _Your Majesty_ , and follow Davies to wherever it is you are so dutifully needed. None shall keep the Queen waiting, not even her eldest and most spoiled child.”

“Spoiled!” Louis feigned offense. “Honestly, why do I keep you around? I should have you tried for disrespect and slander.”

Ciro chuckled and followed as the prince made his way toward the door. “Please do,” he replied without so much as an ounce of fright. “I look forward to my day in front of the high court. I’ve always wanted to meet your mother.”

“Followed by a beheading?” Louis continued the banter into the corridor. “What odd desires you harbor, Ciro.”

“We all have our fancies, dear prince. Give Queen Jay my regards, will you?” 

“As always,” Louis agreed as Ciro bowed before taking his leave down one of the many other corridors of the castle. The prince nodded toward Davies to carry on and followed the older man along a familiar route, past the gardens, past the library, and into the heart of the castle where his mother’s chamber was located. The servant stopped at the door and bowed out just as Louis entered the room with only a verbal, “Knock-knock.” 

“Lou? Oh, come in, sweetheart,” a voice called out upon Louis’ entrance, its owner out of view. Entering the room more fully, though, Louis found his mother by one of the large bay windows. She was looking out upon the hustle and bustle take place in the gardens below, observing the site with pursed lips and a far off look—no doubt waiting for Louis. She turned just as he approached and smiled in greeting. 

“You called?” Louis asked, his tone a bit brisk as he left out the customary bow he often included for good measure. Instead, he folded his arms across his chest.

“Yes, yes, there are some things I want to discuss with you yet. Take a seat, will you?”

Louis resisted a sigh—honestly, what left was there to discuss?—and complied, dropping into the nearest chair. “Ciro sends his regards.”

The queen’s smile fell as she took the seat across from him. “Oh my,” she frowned, “with everything else I had forgotten you had your fencing today. I did not cut your time too short, did I?”

“I suppose not.” 

“Splendid,” Jay settled and flattened down the front of her dress. Gown, more like. Louis thought her outfit a tad too fancy for a day indoors, but Queen Jay always dressed her best. That included days when it seemed her only mission was to force Louis into stressing about things he was trying so desperately not to stress about.

As this was such a day, his mother wore a look that was stuck somewhere between empathy and sympathy as she wondered, “How are you holding up today, Louis?” 

_I was doing brilliantly_ , he wished to say. “‘M alright,” was what came out instead. 

Jay reached a hand over to give Louis’ forearm a gentle, comforting squeeze. “You are allowed to be nervous, you know,” she told him quietly, a soft smile in place.

But Louis shook his head. “I am not nervous,” he said. He wasn’t. 

Jay straightened up in her chair and glanced away. She was silent for a moment but then chuckled to herself. “Your father was struck sick with nerves on his eighteenth birthday, you know. Sick with nerves and fear,” she said, smiling in a way that was a little bit sad. 

“Father? Nervous?” Louis echoed in blatant disbelief. “But Father was never afraid of anything.”

“Not later in his life, no,” his mother agreed. “And not by the common, frightening things. Your father might not have been afraid of bears or the upset man or illness or war, but he was always nervous with the matters he held close to his heart, Louis. His parents, his family, your sisters, me, you—he was always nervous that things might not work out right with those he cared for the most.”

“But you are his One True Love,” Louis remarked with a confused sort of laugh. “How could he be nervous it would not work out? Is that not the whole point, anyway?” 

The queen sighed and took that moment to stand, taking the several paces back toward the window. Her back was turned when she spoke something Louis had not considered: “The One True Love assignment is supposed to help lead you to your Happily Ever After, of course that is the purpose of it. But even the best laid plans, Louis, are not immune to the unexpected.” 

And so were the words that haunted Louis for the rest of the day. 

Even now, lain in a tub of rapidly cooling bath water, the words teased at his peace of mind. 

He hadn’t been nervous about his One True Love assignment. He really hadn’t. He’d been looking forward to it, even, wondering who The Kismetin would choose to assign him. He had spent the past several weeks toying with the possibilities—perhaps it would be a well-known princess he’s never had the pleasure to meet, or a young maiden who could never dream of such fortune, or perhaps it would even be someone he already knew.

The possibilities were endless, he thought. But no matter how he imagined his OTL (One True Love) revealing, he always imagined it working out perfectly. He would receive his OTL, set out to meet her, plan to woo her, carry out his plans adorned with enough charm to spare, and begin his life with the girl he was proud to call his wife and the future queen of Galisea. No matter the possible girl his mind threw into the equation, that was how his story always ended. 

Because that was what he had expected, what he had learned from his first seventeen years of life in Astorya—what you received was what was right. 

Louis had never considered there to be room for chance.   
He had never considered the unexpected. 

It made his stomach churn with nerves and his heart quicken with fright. 

With a shake of his head and a quick breath, he submerged himself entirely in the water and drowned his troubling thoughts and silly worries. Things would go as planned.

There was nothing to fear. 

_____

On the other side of the kingdom a boy was carrying three massive sacks of flour into a bakery, muscles tensed and back aching with every step.

“Almost there,” he muttered, walking through the threshold of the back kitchens. He was just about to put the sacks of flour down when the one directly over his shoulder split open and emptied all of its contents over him.

“Are you  _fucking_ kidding me?”

Angrily, he threw the remaining sacks into the cupboard where they belonged..

A laugh sounded behind him and he turned around to see a tan boy leaning against the door frame, body shaking with laughter.

Through the clumps of flour in his eyelashes, the young baker managed to make out the person laughing.

“Zayn, you bloody arse, stop laughing.” He moaned pitifully, shaking his long hair out and trying to get all of the white powder off of his body to no avail.

“Bloody arse? Word your insults more carefully, mate,” Zayn spoke, walking in and stepping over the flour on the floor, his black shoes too precious to ruin.

“Oh shut it,” the other boy sighed, shaking his curly brown hair out. His sea green eyes scanned the room slowly and he groaned at the sight. “I made such a mess. Mum’s gonna kill me.”

“Hey, it’s alright, Harry.” Zayn gave the baker an empathetic pat on the back and pulled out a bottle of rum from behind his own. “Just drink your problems away. Works for me.”

The young baker, Harry, stared at his friend, folding his arms over his lean frame. “That will just multiply my mum’s reasons to behead me. Drunk on duty? No way in hell.”

Zayn only shrugged. “Suit yourself, mate. That just means there’s more for me.”

Harry went to snatch the bottle away but Zayn held it to his chest. “Zayn, you can’t have alcohol in here.”

“Bullshit. I smell bullshit,” Zayn accused. “I’ve seen you drink in here before.”

“And if I have, it’s been a small sip for a tension releasing sake, alright? Now leave. I have to finish all this baking by tomorrow. It’s for the royal highness and all that.”

“His royal highn- _arse_  more like.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Whether he’s a prat or not, I have to finish this for the big dinner. Aren’t you invited?”

Zayn groaned. “Don’t remind me.”

With a chuckle, Harry asked, “Why are you even here right now?”

Zayn shrugged again. “Sisters wanted some of those raspberry tarts.”

Harry narrowed his eyes. “I thought you said they hated those.”

“Fine, fine!” Zayn surrendered. “I came to ask you if you would do me the  _honor_  of accompanying me to the pub down the street.”

Harry considered this. “Well if I happen to finish early, which I will if you help me sweep, I can go down to the pub for a few drinks. Haven’t got much money on me, though,” he added, patting the front of his brown shirt.

“I’ve got your drinks if you don’t make me help clean.” Zayn chimed.

“Deal.”

___

“So then, I was like TOLHEAO and the girl just rolls her eyes – yes like  _that!_  – and walks away! Like, where did I go wrong?”

“TOLHEAO?” Harry asked behind the rim of his pint.

“Yeah! Like, thou only lives happily ever after once?” Zayn half yelled excitedly.

The curly haired boy just licked the foam off his upper lip and looked down, shaking his head. “Zayn,  _no._ ”

“Harry, you don’t understand. It’s going to catch on! Maybe not today, but years from now!”

“Zayn, I’m saying this because I’m your friend and I care about you, alright? Please stop.”

“But Harry!” Zayn begged.

The bartender set another tall glass of alcohol in front of him just then. She held his hand for a second to get his attention. “Listen to your friend, love. You’re acting a fool.”

Zayn looked down. “Fine.” There was a pause before he uttered a harsh, “Peasants,” then rested his head on the table.

Harry gave a defeated sigh and looked at the woman cleaning glasses. “He gets like that, ignore him.”

“Oh I know, love. Comes in here every other night when he’s not being pretentious with his knightly duties.”

Harry hummed. “Sometimes I forget he is a knight, you know? He’s so wrapped up in being the village bum some nights, honestly.”

She chuckled, handing him the tab and Harry fished out the little coins he had.

“Zayn? Zayn, you need to pay the tab.” The curly haired boy shook his friend’s shoulder, but he didn’t budge.

“Say it.”

“Zayn, I’m not going to say it,” Harry muttered.

“Then I won’t pay your shit,” Zayn countered.

Harry could hear the bartender giggling. “Fine, you annoying, drunk bastard. TOLHEAO.”

“Louder,” Zayn challenged, raising his head.

“Are you..? Fine.” Harry chugged the rest of his drink, hopped off the stool he’d been sitting on, and walked into the center of the pub. “Hey everyone!” he shouted, his thick voice not letting him be too loud anyway. “TOLHEAO! Thou only lives happily ever after once!”

He was met with a drunken chorus of “TOLHEAO!” and he chuckled as he returned to Zayn, who was grinning proudly. His heart was hammering in his chest at the slight rush that came with having attention like that.

“You’re my best mate, you know that?” Zayn marveled, throwing a few silver coins on the counter and taking Harry under his arm.

The green-eyed boy just laughed and grinned a simple, “I know.”

____

When they returned to Zayn’s house, the raven-haired boy passed out on his bed while Harry took the plush couch next to him. Zayn was snoring softly, a bottle of rum tucked to his chest. Harry simply stared at the ceiling, silently wondering how he had gotten so lucky to have such a simple and wonderful life, despite the hardships he’d faced along the way.


	2. II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Transferring fic from tumblr is really frustrating, you know. Hope y'all like it :)

“ _Harryyyy._ ”

He stirred, but he didn’t get up.

“ _Harryyyyyy_.”

It was way too early for anyone to need such immediate attention, but.

“ _Harryyyyyyyyyyyyy_.”

_Fine._  With a huff, Harry rolled over and blinked open his eyes, squinting in the morning light that illuminated the entire room. Assaulted the entire room, more like. Eyes focusing in on the boy sprawled on the bed across the way, he glared.

“What the hell’s wrong, Zayn?” He muttered in greeting, his head too foggy to keep the rash words from spilling. Waking up to whining was surely not one of Harry’s favorite ways to start his morning.

“Shut the bloody blinds, will you?” Zayn ordered without moving. He was buried beneath his covers, one arm thrown across his eyes. He looked absolutely wrecked.

“You’re hung over, mate,” Harry told him.

“I bloody well fucking am,” Zayn grunted, “and I have that shit dinner for His Majesty Fuck tonight. Tonight. Shit. And I have to head over to the castle by noon.”

“Noon, huh?” Harry spared a glance out the window, noting the sun’s already fairly high position above the neighboring rooftops. “Which,” he said, perhaps a bit too amused for the situation, “is in a couple hours.”

There was a long sigh before, “ _Fuck_.”

Harry chuckled at that, scrubbing a hand over his face to fully awaken. “C’mon, Zayn,” he encouraged and forced himself upright. “Get up. We can’t have you hung over and stumbling over yourself in front of the prince on his royal birthday.”

Zayn snorted into his arm. “Maybe Princess has a forgiving sense of humor.”

“Not enough to enjoy the village drunk screwing up his birthday feast,” Harry countered, even though the idea was rather humorous to imagine. He had no idea what the prince was even like, though; maybe a hung over knight stumbling through the castle’s corridors _would_  amuse him. He doubted it, though. He’d always imagined the royal family as a tad too strict and haughty to regard such juvenile antics as humorous.

But then again, all Harry knew about them were their names. He knew Prince Louis was turning 18 today because that’s something everyone in the Galisean Kingdom knew, but that’s also all he knew. Peasants never got to mix with the likes of royalty, anyway.

Zayn groaned miserably, and Harry shook his head before fetching him a glass of water. “Drink this,” he ordered from Zayn’s bedside, waiting until the other man at least peeked out from behind his arm.

“What is it?” He sounded suspicious, and rightfully so—Harry had forced more than a few home remedies down his throat for various ailments over the years of their friendship.

But, “It’s just water,” Harry assured him with a laugh. “Drink it and it better all be gone by the time I’m back from the chemist’s with something to help you act more civil. Okay?”

Zayn regarded him with a cautious look but took the glass all the same. “Yes,  _mum_.”

“That’s my good little knight,” Harry teased, beaming as he messed up Zayn’s flattened mop of black hair. Zayn grumbled, rolling his eyes, but said no more as he tipped back the glass against his lips, which was all Harry could ask for, really.

Rummaging through Zayn’s discarded trousers, he snagged a few coins from him before heading for the door. “Oh,” he paused, door already open and sun drowning the room, “and wash up if you get bored. Knights aren’t really supposed to smell like pigpens, are they?”

“Screw off,” Zayn sneered and threw something hard and heavy at the door as Harry left. It hit the door behind him, and luckily it didn’t shatter when it fell to the ground.

**

Zayn was sitting up in his bed sometime later, blankets still pulled up over his lap and a miserable looking grimace seemingly stuck permanently to his features. He’d looked worse for wear on countless occasions (they didn’t call him the village bum for nothing), but this was exceptional, even for him.

“Think I’m coming down with something,” he declared and ran the back of his hand beneath his nose for emphasis.

Harry rolled his eyes from where he had busied himself with making his friend a hearty morning meal. “You’re not catching cold,” he said, smearing a generous amount of jam across two pieces of toast. “You’re just hung over.”

“Yeah, but I feel like absolute shit.”

“Because you drank your weight in rum last night, maybe?” Harry shot back, which earned him an unfriendly glare from the boy in bed.

“Yeah, yeah, you’d drink your weight and then some in rum, too, if you had to stand around the kingdom all goddamn day in ridiculous get-ups and dote on the royal family.”

“You’ve barely even said five words to any of them in person,” Harry reminded him. He remembered the rare occasions Zayn  _had_  been granted the opportunity to actually speak with any of the Tomlinson family, because the older boy would always come scrambling into the bakery with reddened cheeks and too many words and not enough breath. For complaining about them all so often, he still got a little star struck after every encounter. Harry thought it was kind of cute, actually.

But right now, Zayn wasn’t being cute at all. He was being a whiny little bitch, if Harry was to be completely honest.

He was a  _fucking knight_ , for gods’ sake.

He held a title most commoners in the kingdom could only dream of, was afforded the finest specialties and riches, and never had to worry about paying for anything. His life was quite literally made, and yet Harry always had to hear him whine and moan about it like he’d been dealt the shittiest hand in life.

Zayn was still going on about it—“ _like they even fucking need me there to sit around a table and chow down a feast large enough to feed all seven kingdoms_ ”—when Harry stalked across the room and dropped the plate of toast onto Zayn’s lap so heavily that the older boy flinched, his face contorting in brief pain.

“Eat your toast and clean up,” Harry ordered, didn’t suggest, and plopped down onto the couch he’d slept on the night before, arms folded stiffly against his chest.

“Fine,” Zayn said, his voice a bit softer as he picked up his toast and glanced at his friend. “Thanks.”

Harry worked his jaw for a moment before responding. “You’re welcome. Now, just… eat and stop complaining, won’t you?”

The darker-haired boy conceded and looked significantly guilty for his words—for all of a minute before he was eying Harry up with a thoughtful look.

“You’ve never really been inside the castle before, right?” he asked, the face of nonchalance.

“You know I haven’t.”

“And you probably dreamed of being a knight when you were younger, didn’t you?”

Green eyes peered at Zayn with uncertainty. “What are you getting at, Zayn?”

His friend’s lips lifted upward into a mischievous smirk, and his stomach dropped. “Zayn, whatever you’re thinking, no, I’m not—”

“It would just be for one night!” Zayn urged him.

“No, Zayn—”

“Harry, please,” Zayn interrupted him, his voice brushing dangerously close to pleading, “I’m not in any state to go to this bloody thing tonight, and you  _know_  I act out when I’m hung over like this, and the last thing I need is to flip my shit on His Majesty Sucks-A-Lot on his birthday. I could lose my title, Harry.”

Harry was shaking his head adamantly. “Then don’t be rude to the prince, Zayn, it’s not that hard—”

“Harryyyyyy.”

“Zayn.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“Please.”

“It’s not happening, I won’t pretend to—”

“I’ll help around the bakery for two weeks.”

Harry snorted his sentiments.

“Okay, fine, I’ll help for  _one_  week and pay for your drinks for two.”

Green eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Are you honestly trying to bribe me with free alcohol to fill your spot this evening?”

“I don’t know,” Zayn said, his lips curved into a devilish sort of smile and his dark eyes glistening in the sunlight. “Is it working?”

“Actually,” Harry hated to admit it, “yes.”

Zayn grinned. “So? Help around the bakery all next week and I’ll supply your alcohol for the next two, do we have a deal?”

The curly-haired boy let out a disastrously long sigh and shook his head at himself. “This is a horrible idea, you know that.”

“Yeah, but,” Zayn chuckled around a bite of toast, “even if it ends in shambles, least you’ll get to end it as a knight in shining armor.”

Harry couldn’t disagree.

**

Not an hour later and Harry was standing in the middle of Zayn’s living room, dressed in quite possibly the most ridiculous and, more importantly, heaviest outfit he had ever worn.

The trousers were fine, some thin, dark beige material that clung to his legs. The boots weren’t that bad either, though he didn’t normally pull on shoes that went nearly up to his knee. It felt weird, but it wasn’t necessarily bad.

The bad part was the top. Over a simple tunic was an overcoat of chainmail. Which, alright, “Is this really necessary?”

Zayn chuckled as he adjusted the metal jacket of armor across Harry’s shoulder. “It’s just part of the position, Harry.”

“Yeah,” Harry said and grimaced in pain under the unfamiliar weight, “when there’s a present threat on the palace maybe, but.”

“It’s part of the position,” Zayn repeated, a smirk too close to shit-eating curling his lips.

Harry glared. “I swear to the gods, Zayn, if you don’t stop smirking, I’m going to assume you’re well enough to attend this evening and send you on your merry little way.”

“You wouldn’t.”

Harry only lifted one brow in challenge.

Zayn’s smirk fell, and he went back to adjusting the armor where needed, debriefing as he went. “So,” he started up again, “don’t speak unless spoken to. I mean, yeah, with the other knights when you’re not really on duty, that’s fine, but otherwise.”

“Be a man of few words,” Harry summarized with a firm nod. “Got it.”

Zayn smiled, all warm and fond, as he walked to stand in front of the curly-haired boy. “Right,” he said. “Really, you’re just going to be standing around the corridors tonight, making sure things don’t go array. If you’re told to do something else, do it.”

“Something else?” Harry paled, frowning. “Like what, I don’t know where anything is or—”

“Harry, relax,” Zayn cut his friend off with a laugh. “It’d just be relaying a message or something, nothing serious.”

Harry swallowed thickly. “You’re sure?”

“Honestly in all my years, Harry, the most exciting thing I’ve ever done was climbing a tree because one of the princesses’ cats got stuck up in the branches. The rest of the time we’re standing around or guarding the halls or relaying pointless messages, and by gods, Harry, it’s not like I’m sending you into battle.”

“I know, I know,” Harry conceded and trailed off for a moment before shaking his head, righting his shoulders, and meeting his friend’s eyes. “Give me that headpiece and I’ll go join the ranks of knighthood.”

Zayn cracked a grin. “Thatta boy,” he said and snatched up the silver headpiece from the bed, handing it over.

Harry took it with a quiet sort of smile, his large hands spanning over the sides of it like it was something special. And it was—he’d never actually touched any part of Zayn’s knightly uniforms or outfits or equipment or anything of the like—and having it in his hands felt like he was holding onto someone else’s world. It wasn’t really as unnerving as he thought it would be.

“You’re a life saver, Harry, you know that, yeah?” Zayn asked, his voice holding a soft tone, low like something secret.

A smile swept across Harry’s lips and he nodded lightly. “You’re welcome,” he said because he knew Zayn had meant  _thank you_ , “even though I still think this is a horrible idea.”

Zayn chuckled again and ran a hand through his hair as he guided them both toward the door. “Yeah, well,” he said as he stopped near the front of the house, “I suppose the help around the bakery outweighs all the risk, huh?”

Harry shrugged. “Suppose,” he agreed.

“Right, so, go be a knight for a night, aha,” Zayn laughed at himself, shaking his head. “And wish the prince-ass a happy birthday, yeah? Let me know if he has a totally unexpected OTL. Maybe it’s one of my sisters.”

“Your sisters aren’t old enough yet,” Harry pointed out, but his friend only shrugged.

“The Kismetin are full of surprises sometimes, aren’t they?”

“Sometimes, I guess,” the curly-haired boy agreed, but said no more. He never really liked talking about the Kismetin or thinking about them, really. He hated the entire idea, that these beings you never saw—only ever heard of in tale and rule—had near total control of how you lived your life. He hated that someone beside himself even had the right to dictate his future, how his story would play out. He hated it.

And Zayn knew, from countless late-night, drunken conversations they’d shared, how Harry didn’t like to be reminded of the Kismetin or their existence. He knew, so he let the conversation slide away from them easily, saying instead, “It’s almost noon.”

Harry spared a glance outside, eyes squinting up toward the sun, and nodded. “Right. Time for me to go be you for the day. You bloody well owe me for this, you know.”

“I know,” Zayn grinned sheepishly, still managing to look a tad miserable. “I’ll owe you for an eternity and two, but that’s something we both already know.”

Harry shook his head, amused, and pulled the door farther open, taking a step out. He turned back, an uneasy smile clinging to his lips. “Well,” he said and swallowed thick and hard like he was headed to his last meal, “TOLHEAO, yeah?”

The older boy snorted but grinned. “TOLHEAO, Harry,” he echoed with a wave as Harry turned away.

Harry was already turning the corner to cut through town when he heard behind him, again. “TOLHEAO!”

____________

It was seven-thirty and the sun was just brushing up above the treetops outside the castle. It was so early that most of the kitchen staff was only now beginning to start their duties, most rest of the kingdom still tucked safely in their beds and clinging to slumber.

Prince Louis, though, was already out of his bed and instead curled up in a large chair at the other end of his room. He’d always liked that chair, liked how its back and sides were so tall that he felt like he was enveloped within it, hidden in a fort that would keep out any unwanted matters and people; liked how it reminded him of his father, big and strong and protecting. It comforted him, too, whenever he curled up on its spacious cushion and tried to ward off the rest of the world.

He was curled up in that chair this very morning, his legs tucked beneath him and brow contracted as his eyes ran over the words printed neatly across a thick piece of parchment.

_One True Love_  was written in a flowing script along the top of the page, and Louis was already skimming down the letter and its many paragraphs and instructions, his breath stuck in his throat.

His heart was beating low and calm in his chest as he quickly read through the assignment, but it stopped—skipped a beat, two, stuttered onto a third—momentarily as his eyes landed across the name designated at the bottom of the page.

_Eleanor Jane Calder, Princess of Brira_

“Eleanor,” Louis repeated the name, sliding easily off his tongue. His lips curved up into a little smile, and he let out a breath that felt like relief.

Before he even had a moment more to contemplate it, there was a gentle knock on the door before it was pushed over just a smidge. “Louis?” his mother’s voice called.

The prince craned his neck to see the door from his current position and smiled, waving the letter at the queen. “Take a guess,” he said without introduction. His thoughts were rushing about too quickly for simple small talk, anyway.

Jay furrowed her brow in thought as she fully entered the room, her attire at this early hour no more than a simple dressing gown, trimmed in their family’s navy blue. “It’s someone we know?” she wondered, sounding genuinely surprised while taking a seat nearer the fireplace.

The son nodded, biting back a smile. “She lives in one of the northern kingdoms.”

“Princess?” Jay asked rather uselessly, as none of the royal family held many friendships with those of the lower classes. Not because they felt it beneath them, but solely because it was so uncommon for, say, a prince and a baker’s son to meet. The royals usually stayed near their castles; the bakers usually stayed near their ovens.

“Naturally,” Louis confirmed, forgoing an eye-roll to smile once more.

“A princess,” Jay repeated, in thought, “up north… Brira?” Louis nodded excitedly, and Jay’s face lit up with delight. “Eleanor?!”

Louis nodded again, biting back a too big grin and swallowing his relief. Before he could even get out another word, voice how pleased he was with this outcome, so pleased it was someone he  _knew_ , someone he’d seen on several occasions since he was a young boy, his mother crossed the room and enveloped him in a warm, loving embrace. “Oh baby,” she cooed against the crown of his head, “You must be so  _thrilled_.”

“I am,” he assured her and breathed out another bundle of nerves as he drowned in the hug.

“Eleanor is such a lovely girl,” Jay continued, a smile to her words. “Oh, Lou, I hadn’t even imagined the two of you…”

Louis chuckled against his mother’s shoulder, feeling as overwhelmed as his mother was beginning to sound. He pulled away after another moment, sure to keep the letter from getting crumpled between them. He held the parchment up again and furrowed his brow, troubled eyes running across the scripted instructions once more. “But,” he started, hummed in thought, “what’s this about a companion?”

The queen frowned. “A companion?”

“Yeah,” Louis said and held the letter toward her, pointing out the line. “It says here that I’m to have a companion along my journey while completing the One True Love assignment. It’s required?”

Jay took the letter from her son without a word and scanned it in the following minutes. Her eyes jumped about the page and then reread one spot several times before looking toward the prince. “That’s new,” she stated, frowning again.

Louis’ stomach dropped. “But they don’t change the tasks,” he said, because they didn’t. The tasks were as old as time itself.

“Not exactly,” his mother said and grimaced in thought. She bit her lip before continuing, “But they have been known to tweak the rules for the tasks a bit over the years—for the sake of our wellbeing. It’s a logical change, too, what with all the incidents these past few years.”

“Yeah, the incidents.” Louis snorted and tried to ignore the rising panic in his chest. “The incidents by some imbeciles who think they can take on a forest of deadly creatures alone,” he muttered. Of course he remembered. There were always tales and gossip circulating the kingdom, some arrogant (and ignorant) fools taking dangerous routes in hopes to complete their assignments quicker. It always ended badly. But they were competitive, pompous idiots. Louis was Louis, and— “Is it really  _necessary_ , though?”

His mother sighed, her eyes dropping to the letter again. “Rules are rules, Louis—”

“But I’m  _18_  now, and I’m fully capable of making a trek up north on my own. I’ve practically done it before—”

“You had two knights with you—”

“I said practically! And whom am I supposed to take? I don’t want to take some silent knight with me the whole way there again. Do you know how boring some of them are? They barely even say a word, Mother! Besides, a knight would ruin all of the fun.”

“Louis—”

“And isn’t the whole point of this big One True Love task that we battle all the forces and conquer all the obstacles on the way to win the heart of our assignment? Ooh, yeah, really gonna win some hearts with a knight in shining armor standing at my side.” Louis sighed heavily, the fight leaving him as he slumped back down into the big armchair. He rubbed his brow, smoothing out the wrinkled glare there, and frowned for a minute.

Then he wondered, a curious note to his voice, “Doesn’t Liam count? He’d pop in and save my arse if I were in serious trouble, wouldn’t he? Isn’t that the whole point of a fairy godfather?”

“Well, yes,” his mother agreed with a small smile, “but—”

“Then he should count as my companion. It doesn’t say the companion has to be glued to my side at every hour, does it?”

Jay looked to the letter and shook her head wordlessly.

Louis didn’t say anymore. Rather, he simply crossed his arms against his chest and arched one eyebrow.

His mother sighed again and refolded the letter along its creased marks. “I’ll see if he can’t be considered your companion,” she told him, not sounding very hopeful. “Though you know they don’t usually make exceptions—”

“It wouldn’t be an exception,” the prince interrupted.

“Right.” Jay frowned, glancing down at the letter in her hands. “I’ll let you know by the feast tonight. Relax a bit before then, alright? Before we let the others know.”

Louis’ features softened, and he nodded, smiling as he saw his mother out with a complacent kiss to her cheek. She left him with a round of birthday wishes and another hug and word of congratulations, leaving the prince behind with a new wave of nerves.

**

Fairy godfathers and godmothers did not count.

Louis learned this later that afternoon, as his mother found him in the west gardens with a regretful look. She’d asked, more than once, but they—the Kismetin and their informants—were steadfast on the notion that a companion must be human. Fairy godparents were excluded from the list of possibilities, as, they said,  _it gives the protagonist an unfair advantage_.

“Fine, whatever,” Louis grumbled at the news, his toes digging into the dirt beneath the bench he sat upon.

“You could take Ciro, maybe?” Jay suggested as she took a seat beside him. “I’m sure he’d be more than willing.”

Louis shook his head. “He has other fencing students. I couldn’t take him away from his job for three months.”

The queen frowned. “What about that street boy you invite to supper from time to time. Stan, isn’t it?”

The prince shook his head again, sighing. “Stan couldn’t be away from home for that long.”

“Oh, I see.”

Louis sighed again, and this time when he spoke it was with an edge of anger to his words. “This is bloody stupid, you know that?” he said—spat, rather. “I’m a bloody prince, for gods’ sake! That should count for something.”

Jay squeezed her son into a hug. “You know royalty isn’t everything, sweetie,” she reminded him.

And Louis knew. He hated pulling out the royal card, but.  _Come on_. Being a prince should get you some leeway, shouldn’t it?

“I know, I know,” he assented with a sigh. He kicked at the ground for another minute before settling, “I guess I’ll just have to choose one of the knights.”

“Mm,” Jay hummed her agreement. “You have time before needing to set out, though. You can get to know them before making a choice.”

“I suppose,” he said on a drawn-out sigh. He slumped against his mother for the moment, wishing that maybe he had had the chance to make some more friends over the years. But it was a bit too late to change the past, so instead of dwelling on it he noted, “It’s just. It’s stupid, y’know? Having someone with us just kind of ruins all that majestic pride we could use to woo and charm our dames.”

His mother laughed, chuckling against his hair. “Oh, honey, you’ve more than enough majestic pride to charm Eleanor, I’m sure of it.”

Louis smiled to himself and only hoped she was right.

**

It was half an hour till the feast when Louis found himself in the castle’s spacious library. He was enjoying a little breather from the feast’s final touches, thumbing mindlessly through the pages of a random book and letting his mind relax, when there was a crash just outside the doorway. He jumped in his armchair (of course he would never admit to such) and turned in time to find the doors wrenched open. In stumbled, rather unceremoniously, one of the many knights of the castle, donned in a full set of armor and nearly falling to the floor.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Louis questioned bluntly, alarmed more than anything else. He gaped at the knight for a moment and then, recovering, wondered, “Where are your formal dining robes?”

“D-dining robes?” the disguised man echoed, his voice muffled by his armor.

“Yes…? Those atrocious scarlet garments you wear every evening?” The knight showed no signs of understanding, and the prince could only roll his eyes as he stood from his chair. “I mean by gods, are we under attack or something? There’s really no need for all that shiny tin foil crap unless someone’s shooting flaming arrows at my precious face. Or at my family, for that matter.”

There was no response at first, just silence. And then the boy slowly removed the heavy armor headpiece, revealing loose chestnut curls and… and green eyes.

And Louis didn’t know quite what hit him.

The boy ran a nervous hand through his hair as he continued to silently remove the armor.

“Did you even bring dining robes?” Louis asked, scowling at the torn shirt and boring beige trousers the boy wore.

“Don’t own any,” he replied simply, smoothing down his shirt. His green eyes moved up to Louis’ and the prince sucked in a breath. Right then Louis reckoned the boy had eyes the size of the moon.

But Louis caught himself quickly, taking a deep breath and straightening his posture. “What do you mean, you don’t own any?” he asked - or snapped, rather, narrowing his eyes. “Every knight is provided with proper formal attire.”

The boy’s eyes widened just a smidgen - was that even possible? - and he deadpanned. “Oh.”

The prince arched one curious brow. “Oh?”

“Oh, as in, um, I… I’ve forgotten my robes at home,” the boy tried, though his words were rushed and uncertain, sounding far more like a question than a statement. He continued nonetheless, his green eyes still wide and horrified and landing on anything but the prince himself. “And I can’t believe how, how, erm, careless I’ve been, hence _oh_.”

“You’re a terrible liar.” Louis said bluntly, deciding to look at his own perfectly manicured nails rather than the boy’s too-big-for-his-own-good eyes.

“I’m not—”

“Stop it, you’re embarrassing yourself and, quite frankly, I’m offended you’d think those lies would get past me,” the prince said, looking up sharply, his blue eyes taking a stormy grey hue.

The boy seemed like he didn’t know what to do. His hands were fidgeting and he kept tugging on a loose strand of his shirt. When he finally spoke, his voice grave, he settled for the words, “I’m sorry, Your Majesty.”

“That’s better. Now tell me, who are you?” Louis asked, walking around the boy to take in his full appearance. There was a big flour stain on the back of his leg.

The prince was behind the boy when his response came: “M’ name’s Zayn Malik.”

Louis snorted as he rounded him, taking in his full appearance. His eyes, still dark as a stormy sky, skirted across the boy’s lanky frame before rising to meet two orbs of troubled green. “Now,” he said with a chuckle, “how about you tell me your real name?”

The boy fish-mouthed. “W-what do you mean my—”

“I believe I already told you once to stop, foolish boy,” the prince cut him off with a raised hand and a tilt of the head. “I’m not very fond of repeating myself. In fact, I dislike it almost as much as I dislike a lying man. But your attempts are humoring me, so I’ll repeat myself once more, but only once, mind you, and this time I would appreciate an honest reply. Tell me your real name.”

The boy’s face flushed, but Louis had a feeling that it wasn’t embarrassment, not this time. His frame became fuller, his stance stronger.

“Don’t talk down to me,” he huffed with a scowl. “And my name is Harry.”

“You sure about that?” Louis said, purposely using a condescending tone. Green eyes suddenly flashed with anger.

“I mean it.” The boy - Harry - said, his voice sounding deeper, braver.

The prince was taken aback. “Getting brave, are we?” Louis wondered, inching closer. “If I recall correctly, impersonation of a knight is punishable. Even a death sentence could be given, if I told them to do so.”

Harry suddenly shrunk back.

“Oh?” Louis observed the change in Harry’s demeanor with a knowing smile pursing his lips.

The boy’s shoulders that had hunched up with defiance quickly fell, the fight draining from every pore upon his pretty face. He soon stood, defeated, before the prince, his green eyes now wide as half-dollars and pleading.

“Wise choice, Harry,” Louis concluded softly, a peculiar smile now blossoming across his lips.

Confusion furrowed the boy’s brow.

“Come forth, let’s get you changed.”

“W-what?”

“Well honestly, you can’t go to dinner like that!”

“Dinner?” The boy stared at him blankly, but after a beat he gulped, his Adam’s apple visibly bobbing in his throat. “Do you… do you always dine with the guilty before the beheading?”

“Before the beheading?” Louis echoed with a bunched up brow before crumbling into a hearty cackle. “By gods, you really thought I was going to—? Oh, Harry, Harry, I know I may seem a tad cold, but I am not that cruel. Now, come, I’ll have one of my footmen fetch you a spare set of robes.”

“You mean,” Harry started but stopped.

The prince turned around near the door, his smile fading just a touch as Harry remained rooted to the floor, his (well, not really  _his_ ) armor in careless heaps at his feet.

“What is it?”

The boy raised his eyes from the plush, oriental carpet at the question. His features were scrunched up in something of a war between absolute relief and natural hesitancy. “You’re… you’re not going to turn me in then?”

Louis offered the boy a laugh. “Would you like me to?”

Horror conquered all other emotions on the boy’s face. “No! No, I, thank you, Your Majesty, I just don’t understand. You’re, you’re not going to turn me in?” he said again, as though it bore repeating.

But this time the prince grinned, perhaps a bit too shit-eatingly-widely. “At a price.”

Harry blanched. He had not a cent to his name. “A, a price?”

“Yes!” Louis exclaimed, his hands finding their way to sit upon his hips in a proud pose. Because clearly what he was about to share was the best idea ever. “You, dear boy, in exchange for my mercy shall accompany me on my journey through the Astoryan lands! A tour, I like to call it. I need a couple extra hands to help carry my belongings, anyway. Wouldn’t mind the company, too. Do you know any good jokes?”

“I’m sorry, Your Highness, but weren’t you just about to throw me to my death? Why are you being so generous?”

“Why not?”

“With all due respect, Prince, you’re heard to be an arse.”

Louis halted and turned around, his face blank and his pink lips forming an “o”.

“People are wrong, obviously,” he said with a shrug.

Harry looked at him with a funny expression, his eyebrows knitted together. “Does it bother you then?” he found himself asking. “What people say?” He stayed where he was, trying to gauge the prince’s reaction.

His jaw looked stiff and his eyes clouded over for just a moment. A handful of seconds and Louis shook his head, proper smile back in place. “Should it bother me?” he countered. “People talk all the time. If they choose to spread lies, it’s not my problem to deal with, so long as I know the truth.”

But the prince’s voice shook behind his smile, and Harry heard it. If it were his place, he might have said something more, but it wasn’t so he only offered, “So, Your Highness, about those dining robes?”

“Right, follow me this way.” Louis said all too brightly, brushing the caramel fringe out of his blue eyes, which had returned back to their natural shade rather than the grey they held earlier.

Harry had no idea where they were going, exiting the vast library and walking down corridor after corridor, turning this way and that. He could have sworn he’d walked into a castle and not a maze. The walls were tall and painted a nice pastel yellow, blue and red tapestries hanging from them with family crests etched and other writings. At some point they had passed a massive portrait of the full royal family, Louis easily spotted among the many princesses that he had as sisters. Harry smiled, noting the big cheesy grin they all had, despite the fact that it had been a formal painting.

They reached two tall doors and Louis grasped the golden (that can’t be  _real_  gold, right?) handle, turning it and pushing when he heard a satisfying click.

If Harry had thought the castle was impressive, it was nothing compared to Louis’ living quarters.

“Holy shit,” he murmured, hearing a humored chuckle from the prince.

The room wasn’t just big, it was huge. It was spacious. Harry was certain he could fit his entire house in the space - eight times through. It was that open and grand, but maybe Harry should have expected as much. He was in a royal castle, anyway.

Eyes wide and curious, he took in the chambers (could he even call them chambers? The word sounded too weak) around him. The walls were a deep, rich mahogany that was touched with a tint of red. Usually he thought dark walls too harsh, enclosing, maybe even a bit depressing.

But not these ones. They were covered with a glossy finish, letting the sun hit them in such a way that they almost glistened. Carvings were etched along the borders, displaying patterns so intricate that Harry could only imagine how many hours were devoted to their completion.   
His eyes jumped from the walls (because really, who cares about walls?) and landed upon the rest of the room. A fireplace jutted into the wall at the far end of the quarters, framed with dark stones and with a small fire crackling for no one. Candelabras were placed throughout the room for light, burning and shining with gold. There was a set of double-doors off to their side, so large that Harry could only assume they led to a wardrobe, seeing as there was only a considerably small dresser for such in sight.

A bed so large it was almost indulgent lay only meters from the fire. Four-posted and draped in some of the softest looking velvets he had ever been granted permission to witness, his body was suddenly aching to lie down. Mounds of pillows were strewn neatly at the head of the bed, and before Harry could let his senses imagine how soft and full of downy feathers they must be, he tore his eyes away entirely.

Across from where they stood was a set of three windows that spanned from the floor to the high ceiling. It should have felt revealing, but the sight they led to left Harry with a slackened jaw. For out below the prince’s chambers was an expanse of yard that slipped beneath the castle’s outer walls and into a dense forest of luscious greens. But winter was upon the Astoryan lands, and as the leaves always lagged in Galisea, the canopy of trees was only now bursting with vibrant yellows and fiery oranges and reds. The sight was so bright in the hour of the setting sun that Harry mindlessly wondered if it weren’t just a large painting, enchanted to trick his eyes into believing it real.

But a bird flew past too close to the glass, and he jumped, jerking out of his reverie nearly as quickly as he had fallen into it.

“You’re right,” the prince spoke after a beat, and there was something like a grimace and a smile pinching his lips as Harry turned to look at him. “It is a bit shitty, isn’t it? I’ve been meaning to do some redecorating.”

If Harry wasn’t already out of his trance he was now.  _What did he just say?_

He opted for, “Excuse me?” his eyebrows shooting up to hide behind his fringe.

“I said, ‘You’re right.’ Look at the walls!” The prince sounded scandalized. “Mahogany? Ugh, boring. I want a deep, rich blue, something to bring out my eyes when I’m in here. Sadly, this had previously been my father’s room and he was quite fond of this color. I don’t really have the heart to change it,” he said, frowning slightly.

Harry just gaped. He would say something except for there was absolutely no reason to let Louis know that he lived in a small house that had a bed filled with straw. For fuck’s sake, it barely even had plumbing.

“Anyways, enough about my room. You need to strip down.”

“What?!” Harry said, eyes like saucers. Louis was eyeing him curiously, raking his gaze over every inch of Harry’s lengthy body. Usually the curly-haired boy had no problem with people looking at him. In fact, if Harry had it his way, he’d wear no clothes and not care about what people thought at all. However, it was the prince that was currently looking at him like that and it made his stomach churn unpleasantly.

“Well I’m going to get you some spare dining robes. I very well can’t bring you to dinner in  _that_ ,” Louis said, motioning toward Harry’s attire as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Harry would have been offended if the prince wasn’t right.

**

Donned in an outfit that even  _felt_  too rich, Harry padded along beside Louis with bated breath. They were making their way down one of the large corridors of the castle, and Harry felt sick to his stomach. If he could run, he would. But this was the prince who had caught him impersonating a knight, and rather than getting angry had invited him to dinner. Which Harry still didn’t quite understand, but his mouth was too dry to ask for clarification.

“By gods, Harry,” Louis chuckled beside him. “You need to breathe.”

“I am,” Harry replied but took a deep, steadying breath anyway.

“It’s just a meal, Harry,” the prince reminded him and tried not to think much of it—how he liked to say this boy’s name.

“But what if the Queen recognizes I’m not a…” Harry trailed off with a sigh, gaze falling to the floor and voice falling with it. “What if she points out that I don’t belong here?”

Louis shrugged. “I’ll say I invited you, and I did, technically, so.”

The boy with the big green eyes didn’t look pacified by such a response, though. He looked like he was about to puke.

“Harry, please,” Louis tried again. “No one would even care. Everyone in there is honestly just here for the food.”

“Yeah?”

“Biggest feast in the kingdom this year, of course they’re here for the food,” Louis said.

Two pools of cool jade stared at him, wide and glistening with something like awe and fright, but Harry nodded once, uncertainly, and said no more. His brows were knitted together into a crease of anxiety, his eyes were trained on the floor as they walked, and he kept nervously wringing his hands together at his waist, like he had no idea how to hold himself in this environment.

The prince rolled his eyes and laughed softly. If he had let himself, he might have thought Harry’s nerves cute.

But as it was, Louis was swallowing back a set of nerves all his own as he led the way to the grand hall. He knew it was just a meal. He knew it was just another birthday feast, with the small added formal announcement of his One True Love.

But after tonight, things would change.

No more lazing about the castle and waiting, waiting, waiting.   
Because after tonight, the next part of his story would begin.

After tonight, the next stage of his life would begin to unfold and there was no going back now that he was here. And whether the boy beside him—the boy with the big green eyes and nervous smile who had quite literally stumbled into Louis’ story without introduction—knew it yet or not, he’d be dragged along for the ride.

“Well,” Louis said and sucked in a breath as they came to stand in front of a pair of ornately decorated, ceiling-high doors. Muffled voices could already be heard on the other side, excited and buzzing in wait. The prince looked toward Harry with a small smile. “You ready?”

“Not at all.”

“Good.”

 


	3. III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm actually rather pleased with this chapter. Hope y'all like it, too :)

The doors opened, heavy and weighted by the intricate design. The hall became stunningly silent, heads all turning to face the prince. Harry didn’t quite know what to do with himself noticing some inquiring gazes were being thrown his way. He looked towards Louis, who made a show of standing up straight, suggesting Harry do the same.

When Harry tried, however, his back protested, popping softly under his skin. Louis suppressed a chuckle.

“If I could have your attention, please.”

Everyone looked up to the head of the table where Queen Jay stood, poise demanding undivided attention. Harry swallowed nervously, glancing between the queen and her son.

“If everyone could please stand as we welcome Prince Louis and his guest.”

Harry felt his face color at Queen Jay’s reference to him. He looked around nervously for a few moments, choking down an uncomfortable laugh. Louis began to walk and Harry followed hastily, feet crossing inward awkwardly and toes catching in the carpet a few times. Louis, however, walked gracefully, feet gliding across the soft maroon material beneath their feet that led from the massive doors to the seat where Louis would be sitting.

Once they had reached the table, Louis gestured for everyone to sit. Harry went to do so as well, but Louis grasped his shoulder roughly to keep him standing, giving him a forced smile.

“Good evening, everyone.” Louis projected. Harry looked at him in awe, admiring the way his words could reach every inch of the hall without being too overbearing. In fact, it sounded full and round, his voice going deeper into his chest. “Firstly, I would like to thank each and every one of you for being here tonight. Not only is it Christmas Eve, but it is also my 18th birthday and the day I am revealed who my One True Love is. So, without further waiting, I would like to share with you all that my chosen One True love is Lady Eleanor Jane Calder, Princess of Brira.”

The hall erupted into cheers of adoration and Louis just beamed. And of course they did, after all everyone liked Lady Eleanor. He turned to look at his mother, who gave Louis a smile bordering upon a grin.

“Furthermore,” he started, catching Harry’s eye he placed his hand between Harry’s shoulder blades and pushed him forward. “I would like to present to you all my companion for my journey. He is a knight who hails from the North East and goes by the humble name of Harry,” he glanced at Harry, who saw a mischievous twinkle in the prince’s eye. “Harry Baker.”

Harry kind of wished the ground would open up and swallow him whole.

“He has courageously agreed to join me so, please, a hand for our brave knight,” Louis finished, stepping back and clapping his own hands, a toothy grin settling on his face. Harry coughed a little into his hand at the polite applause and waved a small gesture he’d seen in parades and such.

Finally, the prince and his companion sat down.

“Let our feast begin,” Queen Jay spoke to the crowd before a comforting murmur overtook the hall. She turned towards Harry, who was nervously picking at a piece of bread. “So, Harry Baker, how do you know Louis?”

Harry was taking a sip of his wine when the queen spoke to him. He was shocked, to say the least, which caused him to spill the tainted drink between his lips. Fortunately, a napkin had caught most of it and hid it from Her Majesty’s sight, but Louis did manage to see the whole thing and he snickered.

“Erm, well, we had – I mean, well, we both – erm,” Harry stammered.

Louis spared him some pity. “He also receives sword lessons from Ciro and so when I brought up my need for a companion, Ciro said he knew just the man for the job.”

The queen nodded silently. “So you’re going to do your best to take care of my young Louis then?” she asked. Harry felt himself panic a little, trying to word the right response in his head.

“Erm, of course, Your Majesty, I’ll do everything in my—uh, in my power,” he replied earnestly, which earned him a laugh from the queen.

Huh.

“Mum, please, you are embarrassing me,” Louis said, voice taking on that of what Harry himself sounds like when he talks to his own mum.

“Oh, Louis, I am just teasing. Is that not right, Harry?”

Harry looked from the queen to her son and swallowed nervously. “Certainly, Your Majesty.”

She laughed again, a delicate sound that Harry likened to her son’s own laugh. “You do not have to refer to me as ‘Your Majesty’, Harry. After all, I would not expect you to do so considering you and Louis are friends. You can just call me Jay, or Queen Jay if you feel more comfortable that way.”

Harry shook his head, then mentally kicked himself for the informality of it. “I don’t feel comfortable doing so, if I’m honest, Your Majesty. Mum raised me not to and all.”

The queen smiled. “Well your mother must be a wonderful woman then, am I correct?”

Harry smiled, a dimpled sort of grin. “Yes, she is. She makes the best raspberry tarts,” he blurted.

The queen chuckled. “Hmm, not sure they could beat Anne’s. Do you know Anne Cox, the baker from the town? She’s a sweet woman and such a talented cook.”

Harry felt the tips of his ears burn hot, yet his heart swell with pride. Louis gave him a knowing smile.

“Louis, have you spoken to Liam lately?” The queen changed the subject, facing her son.

“Liam, who?” Louis asked, sipping his wine.

“Your godfather, Louis.”

Louis perked a little. “Right, the fairy godfather. Yeah, well, no I have not talked to Liam. He has not exactly made himself available to talk to me.”

Queen Jay pursed her lips. “You should probably do so soon, Louis. And do not upset him, do you understand? He is there to help after all.”

Louis gave a curt nod, although muttering, “I do not exactly need the help.”

Harry’s expression fell a little at Louis’ words and the queen must have caught it because she snapped at her son. “Louis William Tomlinson, I will not have you make such conceited comments in the presence of a guest, especially one who has agreed to join you on your quest.”

“Honestly, You Majesty, it’s quite alright.” Harry protested, feeling a blush creep onto his cheeks.

Louis looked towards him. “You know I didn’t mean that, Harry. I am sorry.”

Harry was about to reply that, No, really, it’s okay, when squeals rung around him and then stop abruptly behind him. He turned around to see two sets of identical blue eyes peer at him curiously. They belonged to two equally identical and curious young girls whose heads were cocked as they stared at him. Harry eyed them nervously as their looks persisted until one of them spoke up.

“Who are you?”

And then they were both firing questions.

“Are you one of Lou’s friends?”

“Are you a knight?”

“How do you get your hair so curly?”

“Your eyes are weird! They’re so green!”

“Is that natural or do you wear curlers like Lottie?”

“Are you wearing lipstick?”

“What’s for dessert?”

Harry didn’t know what to say, caught in a whirlwind of attention from the twin girls. He looked towards Louis for help, doe-eyed and confused. The prince chuckled, getting out of his chair to pick one of the girls up into his lap, the other one following close behind.

“Harry, this is Daisy,” he said, gesturing towards the girl in his lap. He shifted a little to allow the other girl to climb on. “And this is Phoebe. They are the younger two of my sisters and princesses of Galisea.”

Harry nodded, absorbing this information. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Pleasure is all ours,” they both said and Louis grinned, pressing kisses to both of their cheeks.

“Too smart for their own good, these girls. Might as well have them rule the country, not me,” he joked, giving them fond smiles.

Queen Jay chuckled. “I have considered it.”

Conversation went rather slowly from then on. The other two princesses joined them somewhere around midnight, and Louis and Harry got up to talk to some of the other knights. Harry was nervous about doing so, but Louis said he would have none of that and dragged him anyway.

He met a knight named Josh who was nice enough and then another with wild hair and a sleazy grin Harry was sure was meant to be charming. He was a bit of a dick, but Harry bit his tongue to avoid saying so out loud. Harry also kept his mouth firmly shut to avoid sounding stupid or giving himself away.

And because he had forgotten to swallow his sip of wine and had managed to stain the front of his trousers when he had gone to make a comment. The red drink spilling from his lips seemed pale in comparison to the deep crimson that overcame Harry’s cheeks.

—-

Harry was greeted Christmas morning, sometime around noon, by the smell of eggs and ham cooking. Unceremoniously, he got up and pulled on a robe so he wouldn’t freeze to death on his way to the kitchen. His arm got stuck in the process, going in folded, but he managed in the end, yawning and stepping into a pair of slippers. Partially sleepwalking, Harry stumbled into the kitchen with his eyes closed and his nose leading the way.

Anne chuckled. “Good morning, love,” she said, peppering his face with kisses. “Happy Christmas, Harry. Did you have a nice time at Zayn’s yesterday?” she asked.

Harry moved out of her reach to avoid getting more kisses, grumbling something about grown men not “kissing their mums ‘Happy Christmas’, it’s not manly.” He cleared his throat and spoke, “Uh, it went fine, I guess.”

“What did you boys get up to? Did Zayn’s mum cook dinner? I know how much you love Trish’s cooking.”

Harry paused at her question. At what point did it become appropriate for Harry to confess that he had dinner with Prince Louis and his mother, Her Royal Highness? He figured he could either continue lying to his mum, telling her he played cards and chess with Zayn and then potentially break her heart when he told her that, hey, he’s traveling across the land in search of a royal’s One True Love. Or, he could come clean now and see her face crumble with worry and spoil her Christmas, making Harry the worst son in the world.

Either way, Harry was fucked.

He turned to look at Anne, who was taking a loaf of bread out of the oven and placing it by the open window so it could cool in the crisp winter air. She busied herself with other things, setting the kettle and plating the eggs, only turning to look at Harry when he took too long to respond.

Might as well just rip the bandage off.

“Actually, mum, I went to the castle to have dinner with the prince?” The blunt statement sounded like a question. Damn.

Anne stared at him for a moment before bursting into a loud laugh. “Right, Harry. Give my congratulations to Zayn on his new title of ‘Prince’.”

Harry sighed frustratedly. “No, really, mum. Zayn didn’t feel like going to the royal dinner so he sent me in his place.”

Anne’s smile slipped off her face. “What?”

“And then, consequently, met Prince Louis.”

“You did what?”

“And then the queen,” Harry let his mum process this information for a while, observing the way she stood fish mouthed. When he deemed it appropriate he said, “And I’m joining him on a quest starting tomorrow.”

“Harry!” Anne gasped. “What in the world, Harry? By Gods, impersonation of nobility is punishable by law, let alone so close to nobility itself—”

“Mum.”

“And you’re going on a quest? Harry Edward, what do you know about self-defense? You’ll get injured—”

“I won’t,” Harry tried to protest.

“Not to mention hanged when the prince finds out you’ve broken the law! And then I’ll have to go to the healer’s home and identify your body.”

“Mum, you’re being a little dramatic.”

Anne paused in the middle of a breath, finger poised accusingly at Harry as if she had been about to make another point. She visibly softened, though, shoulders going lax and slumping. “Oh, baby,” she mumbled.

Harry got up to fetch the kettle, setting it in front of her with two mugs. Anne kept silent, preparing two teas. And then, “How did you get into this mess?” she finally asked, pressing a mug into Harry’s hand.

Harry sighed. “It was really all Zayn’s fault.”

Anne smiled. “When is it not? Honestly, that boy is trouble,” she joked, getting up to fetch the breakfast.

“Well,” Harry began. “Zayn didn’t feel good yesterday morning so he asked me to go in his place to the prince’s royal dinner. Prince Louis took all of three minutes to find out the truth,” he explained, all hand gestures and slow voice. Anne came back and sat down, placing a bowl of fruit, some bread, and the eggs and ham on the table. Harry grabbed a handful of strawberries and continued on. “Then, since I was dressed wrong for the occasion, Prince Louis lent me some robes for the feast. In exchange for not turning me in, I had to promise I’d accompany him on his quest.”

Anne hummed. “But, why you, Harry? You know I love you, dear, but if he knew you weren’t a knight, why would he ask you?”

Harry laughed a little, then shrugged, a full bodied movement. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

“Well, when did you say you leave?” Anne asked, picking at her piece of bread, a habit she had passed on to Harry.

“Tomorrow.”

Anne’s lips pursed. “So soon? That’s just rubbish. I’ll bake you food to take, then. You can’t travel the damn world penniless.” Anne decided, standing up.

Harry’s eyes widened. “Mum, no, honestly, don’t worry yourself.”

She was buzzing, already picking up and throwing down pans.

“Mum!” Anne paused and Harry visibly relaxed. “Honestly,” he repeated, “It’s alright. Sit down and finish your breakfast. I’ll pack something sometime tomorrow morning.”

Anne sat down with a small frown. “You’re right, I’m sorry. It’s just that – Harry, you’re so young, and after your sister got married,” Anne sighed. “You’re only 16, you’re still a baby.”

“I turn 17 in a few months,” Harry mumbled.

“I know, I know. And you know what? If your sister successfully conquered her quest when she got her One True Love, I think you can easily help Louis complete his quest, too.”

Harry smiled. “Thanks, mum. I’m glad I have your blessing, then.”

Anne mirrored the curve on his lips. “Why don’t you go tell Zayn the news and I’ll meet you there in a few hours? I’m baking some blueberry tarts for Trisha.”

Harry nodded, “See you then!” before hugging his mum tight and bolting out the door.

—-

The letter Harry received had said 6:30.

Fuck, what if that meant 6:30 in the evening?

Except, that was stupid because who starts a quest at night, especially one with only two people on a carriage that required at least a sub par place to sleep? Quite frankly, six in the morning was too early and Harry would much rather still be cuddled up in bed.

The rucksack over his shoulder and the leather satchel across his chest did not make his traveling up the long and steep road to the castle any easier. In fact, Harry was seriously contemplating fuck all and tossing said items into the nearest bush so he could embark on the quest stark naked, prince be damned.

When he finally, finally, reached the carriage they would be taking, Harry paused and sat on the steps of the castle to catch his breath. He brushed his curls to the side to look up at the pink sky. Beams of light were beginning to stick on the cotton-like clouds, jumping off the reflection pool in front of the castle and catching on the dew in the lawn and on the trees, giving everything an ephemeral glow.

Everything held a peach colored hue and breathed in the crisp winter air.

He looked at what they would be traveling in. The carriage was simple, not too flashy and extravagant, yet not something a commoner would travel in. They could both fit comfortably in it and, from what Harry could tell, it was packed with plush and embroidered pillows inside. The only thing that put Harry off slightly were the massive horses kicking and grunting at the foot of the carriage. They looked perfectly tame and manicured, but that didn’t ease Harry’s apprehension any less. He wasn’t exactly a fan of big animals.

He sat, musing for a few more moments, completely lost in a daze, and was only roughly snapped out of it when a finger tapped his shoulder.  

“You’re late.”

Harry let out a manly yell, toppling off the steps of the castle.

Louis chuckled, a twinkling sound that he muffled with the back of his hand. “Well, I was trying to be mad at you, but now that you’ve gone and fallen on your arse, I can’t.”

Harry pursed his lips, looking up through his fringe to see the prince, whose hand was outstretched to help him up.

“You scared me,” he grumbled, followed by a “Thanks,” when he was back on his feet.

“My apologies for scaring you, young Harry, but it was your fault for being late,” he joked easily, letting Harry’s hand go and turning to take his bag.

“This is it? This is all you brought?” he questioned, stunned.

Harry just stared. “Yeah, well, I don’t exactly have much.”

Louis tutted, tossing the rucksack in the carriage. “We shall fix that on the trip, yeah? I can not have you making me look bad,” he muttered, but not unkindly.

Harry narrowed his gaze. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Your Majesty.”

Louis turned. “Oh you know I was only teasing, Harry.”

Harry just rolled his eyes and watched as Louis stepped up the side ladder to the carriage and started putting thick rope over the leather bound suitcases. His nimble fingers made quick work of the latches, securing everything in place, before hopping down.

“Well, Harry, are you ready?”

“Won’t we have breakfast first?” Harry asked. Louis just stared at him, making Harry squirm a little. “I-I mean, why should we start on an empty stomach?"

Louis stopped for a moment, contemplative. “You make a compelling point, Harry.  Anywhere you had in mind?"

Harry was surprised at the question. “Uhm, well, we could go get some tea and then a scone or something? I don’t know, I don’t really like heavy breakfasts."

Louis tapped his chin before grinning. “I got it! We can just go to Anne’s Bakery! Mum said your mum makes the best pastries in all of the kingdom."

Harry paled. “No, absolutely not."

Louis frowned. “And why not? By Gods, Harry, it is just going to be a raspberry tart and a tea."

Harry shook his head violently. “No, no. We’re not going to my mum’s bakery. I refuse to go," he stated firmly. Oh Gods, he could see it now; he wasn’t sure what his mum would do, but he just knewshe would embarrass him somehow. No, that wasn’t happening.

Louis scoffed, stepping back a little and crossing his arms. “Fine, but do not get used to ordering me around, Harry. I will not tolerate such behavior." He turned his back and walked over to the carriage, shutting the door roughly. He pulled himself up to the driver’s bench and took hold of the reigns before looking over his shoulder at Harry. “Hurry up, we do not have all bloody day," he snapped.

Fucking excellent, Harry thought, he’s pissed off.

He scrambled up to sit next to Louis on the bench and wasn’t even given a warning before Louis was tugging the reigns, ordering the horses to move.

"Fuck," he mumbled, knuckles white as he held on to the bar in front of him. Louis scoffed silently at the swear, but didn’t say anything.

That was all that was said for nearly an hour.

Harry was insatiable. He twiddled his thumbs, played with the leather of his satchel, pulled his rings on and off (even nearly dropping one off the carriage), and was now tapping his fingers on the railing, whistling.

"Stop that," the prince snapped.

And that was that.

Harry was never a good traveler. He’d get impatient and bored and his mum or his sister would always have to entertain him somehow, the few times they could ever afford to travel. Usually, that entertainment was conversation, but that wasn’t exactly an option right then. With a sigh, he reached into his satchel and pulled out a small leather-bound book, opening to a dog-eared page, and tried reading some. It was poetry, nothing too exciting, but his sister had sent it all the way from her own village. He figured why not.

"Is that prose or poetry?" Louis asked, glancing over at Harry’s book, and then up at Harry.

Harry turned the page and dog-eared it too before turning his gaze to two curious blue eyes. “It’s just poetry by unknown authors."

Louis nodded, focusing back onto the road and Harry went back to looking at his book, not exactly reading the words on the page, just staring at them.

It was silent, for the most part. The only sounds were the horses footsteps, the constant click of the wheels turning, and the occasional bird singing a morning song.

Naturally, when Harry’s stomach decided to open up an abyss to hell, the sound seem to bound off of the trees and echo back into their ears.

Louis stopped the horses.

"You are starved, you liar," Louis accused, narrowing his eyes.

Harry would have preferred the earth swallowed him whole as the prince’s glare shifted into a knowing smirk. A blush reached the tips of his ears as he argued back, “I wasn’t—I’m not starved, alright? It’s just been a while since I last ate."

"Oh, you mean sometime around last night," Louis drawled, grin still in place. “It is alright, Harry. Would you like to have those scones and tea now? I think we are approaching a small town."

Harry wrapped his arms around his middle, groaning when his stomach rumbled again. “Yes, please."

Louis looked at him for a moment before asking, “But the real question here is: how many sugars do you take in your tea?"

Harry chuckled. “Are you serious?" Louis didn’t change his expression, or laugh, or do anything but stare expectantly. “Okay, well Zayn always says it’s a little drastic, but I like my tea with four sugars."

Louis’ mouth fell open. “You are absolutely repulsive. Four sugars? Why not just have the whole sugar cane in your cup, Harry…" The prince trailed off, brow furrowed in confusion. “I have just realized I do not even know your surname."

Harry shrugged. “We don’t know much about each other, really." Louis looked even more distraught at the statement and Harry backtracked. “Styles," he added.

"What? What about style?"

"No," Harry sighed, a little frustrated. “My last name is Styles."

The prince’s lips formed a little “o" in understanding. “Harry Styles? Your parents thought they were clever, huh?" he teased.

Harry chuckled. “Well I prefer Styles as opposed to Cox, my mum’s maiden name."

"I am afraid I do not understand?" Louis tilted his head a little.

Harry groaned internally. Oh, Gods, was he actually about to say this? Alright, well, “Harry Cox, Your Majesty."

Louis looked a little lost until, “Oh. Oh!" his face went a little pink and Harry chuckled. The prince didn’t know where to look, shifting his eyes from the ground, to the trees, to the sky. He huffed out a little breath, making Harry chuckle, before lifting his gaze back to the boy’s. “I feel like an idiot now, honestly. Cox, that is most unfortunate, Harry."

Harry laughed loudly. “Oh trust me, I know. Not a day goes by that I don’t thank the Gods for my parents seeing the light."

"Well, now that is just a little melodramatic, Harry," Louis quipped, pulling the reigns and getting the horses to move again.

"You know, you say my name an awful lot, Your Majesty."

Louis turned to look at him, at loss. “Well, obviously it is because I am addressing you, H—" he cut himself off, looking away.

"Well, I get that, but you don’t have to say my name. You can’t exactly address anyone else right now, can you?" Harry pointed out, making Louis huff stubbornly, his eyebrows creasing in distaste.

"Does it bother you?" he asked earnestly.

Harry shook his head. “No, I was just curious." I like it, he tacked on mentally. They were rounding a hill and noticed that right over it was a small town. “Oh, finally!"

Louis laughed. “I am determined to get to know you by the end of this trip, you know that?"

Harry’s attention was taken off the village to look at Louis, who was smiling slightly. “Oh, is that so? We can play 20 questions, if you’d like."

"How does that work?" Louis asked, pulling into the entrance of the town and scanning his eyes for a bakery.

"I ask you something, you respond and ask me something else in return and we just go back and forth." Harry explained. “Like, for example, what do you do for fun?"

Louis thought this over, frowning slightly. “I do so many things. Can I name more than one?" Harry nodded encouragingly. “I read some, and I enjoy foreign art and music. Oh, I love foreign music so much. I tried to learn piano several years ago, and it went well. Can not say the same for painting, though. I am awful at it." Harry laughed, agreeing. “Oh, and I adore fencing. I should have said that first."

"That’s all really fascinating, Louis. I’ve never fenced before."

Louis grins. “Oh, it is such a rush. Do I ask something now?" he hummed, stopping the carriage when he saw a small building with the words Delilah’s Bakery painted over the door. “This place is so informal," he blurted out.

Harry scoffed, gathering his satchel and hopping off the wooden seat. His bum felt numb and he resisted the urge to collapse at the disorienting feeling. “You can’t expect a fancy place to eat every time we stop."

Louis rolled his eyes. “Oh, it is a crime to want somewhere decent to eat," he spat. “I’m not some sort of working-class peasant to eat in a subpar bakery.”

The sudden change of demeanor gave Harry some sort of metaphorical whiplash. He thought they were finally getting somewhere. “Just dress down, no one will know you’re royalty and then you won’t feel compelled to complain."

Louis gasped but Harry just walked into the bakery without him.

Honestly.

Harry sat down, frustrated, and just cradled his head in his hands, shaking it back and forth to no one in particular. He wasn’t entirely sure what had just happened, but he really hoped Louis wasn’t going to act all high and mighty the entirety of the trip. He also couldn’t exactly handle the switch from bearable to obnoxious every two seconds. It confused Harry, not knowing how to act around the prince when he flip-flopped moods, fearing that he might come off too “informal" and get himself executed or something ridiculous like that.

Sigh.

He heard footsteps approaching and looked up, expecting to see His Royal Highness, but was met with a kind-eyed woman instead. “Hello, welcome to Delilah’s. Anything I can get you, hon?"

"Uhm, yeah, two teas and a few croissants," he muttered, tacking on please as an afterthought. She nodded kindly, making her way to the counter while Harry just pulled his satchel onto the table to use it as a makeshift pillow.

It wasn’t exactly the table manners he had been taught, but then again, he was a “working-class peasant".

The teas arrived promptly with the promise of croissants as soon as they finished baking.

Harry was taking a careful sip from his tea when the door to the bakery rang and in came a tan boy wearing loose grey trousers that were rolled up at the bottom as if they were too long. Harry smiled behind his cup of tea knowingly. He recalled the way his mum used to make or purchase his trousers a few inches past his ankles so that they would last him longer. The boy’s shirt, however, looked way too nicely woven to belong to someone who had to buy the clothing a size too large to give them proper use.

Wait.

"Louis?" Harry blurted out, making the figure turn. His usually styled hair was now laying in a caramel flop across his eyes, and his coat, vest, and cravat had been discarded, leaving him in a puffy white shirt. Harry backtracked a little. “Sorry, I meant Prince Louis," he corrected.

Louis shook his head. “Do not worry about it, Harry. I am here to apologize."

"Oh?"

The waitress came back with the croissants, about to ask if they needed anything else, but Harry paid no mind, instead keeping his eyes trained on Louis, who sat down in front of him, looking down at the cup of tea that was sending swirls of smoke between them.

"Is this mine?" Harry nodded silently. “Thanks, Harry." There was a beat where neither of them said anything, just stirred and sipped their teas. “So, I assume you are a little at loss with my outburst earlier. That is understandable, really, considering it was really uncalled for."

"Am I allowed to agree?"

"I would prefer it over arguing, yes."

"Well then, yes, it was downright ridiculous."

Louis laughed, swiping away the fringe that had fallen into his eyes. “Well tell me how you really feel, Harry," he replied sarcastically, causing Harry to grin into his tea. “Really though, I do not know why I said what I did? I think…I do not know, I suppose I am not very accustomed to change and when it occurs, I tend to take it out on others around me." Harry listened as the prince spoke barely above a whisper, blush creeping onto his cheeks. He looked up for a moment, coughing and rubbing his neck, continuing on with his gaze cast down. “Regardless, being told that I was now to eat food that was not cooked just for me at the palace kind of made me uncomfortable."

Harry stared at him intently for a moment. The prince didn’t look back up, teeth worrying his lip and eyes trained on his tea.

"You could have told me," Harry said earnestly. “I would have picked something up at a market and made breakfast fresh."

Louis looked up sharply. “No, by Gods, do not be silly. You really should not worry. It will not happen again," he promised. “I swear, I am not always insufferable."

Harry grinned at him. “Good, I’m glad. I was about to call it quits."

"Har-har," Louis deadpanned, reaching for a croissant and tearing it apart. “Are we okay, then?"

Harry hummed, reaching for his own piece of bread. “What was the name of your first pet?"

Louis cocked his head for a moment and then his lips formed into a shy smile.

"Ted."


	4. IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hahaha wow, um. hi. we're terribly sorry. like, mountains upon mountains sorry. we'd promise it won't happen again, but we're both on our own quests at the moment. the quests of senior year. it's rather grueling, and we apologize. but please do enjoy x

“Is there a reason as to why we are stopping?”

“Tired,” Harry said in way of an answer and let out a long yawn to go along with it. He turned to find Louis looking at him with a raised brow, maybe even a hint of worry etched in the shadows of his features. Harry smiled, sleepy and apologetic. “Sorry, afraid I’m going to guide us off the edge of a cliff if I keep going tonight. Can barely keep my eyes open.”

“Oh.” Louis blinked, squinted up at the stars above them for a moment that stretched on with nothing but the horses’ slowing hooves serving as the soundtrack. He looked back to Harry once they came to a full stop, looking almost surprised yet sad at the very same time. “I suppose it is getting rather late.”

Harry snorted a laugh. “Yes, it is,” he agreed while jumping down from the driver’s bench. “And I presume, Your Majesty, that you’d rather get a good night’s rest than take over the reins for me?”

Louis smiled but remained perched on the bench. “You presume correctly, Harry.”

“Okay, well, go on then,” Harry said and took the reins from where they lay, busying himself with tying up the horses for the night. “Get settled and I’ll crawl in in a few minutes, okay?”

The prince hummed his sentiments but said no more, taking it upon himself to hop down from his seat and head toward the back of the carriage. He wrestled with freeing his rucksack but pulled it down a few moments later. “Erm, Harry,” he started, turning around, the door to the carriage held open in one hand.

Harry turned too, moving his attention away from the horses just enough to pay Louis a few seconds of his time. “Something the matter?”

“No, no, nothing is wrong,” Louis assured him, shaking his head for emphasis. “I just…” He paused and frowned, one foot mindlessly toeing at the dusty ground. “I apologize if this comes off as, I do not know, odd, maybe?” he began again, his voice a few notches quieter, tone brushing almost upon shy. “At the palace, I am not used to—I have quite an abundance of space and no one really ever comes in without proper warning, if that makes sense? I, I suppose you could say I am afforded much privacy, and even my sisters do not enter my chambers without first knocking and waiting for a clear response, and—”

“Prince, what exactly are you getting at?” Harry interrupted, a taste of amusement rushing along his lips.

The older boy stilled with his mouth ajar and surprise widening his features, like he wasn’t very accustomed to being interrupted or addressed so bluntly. Harry assumed he probably wasn’t accustomed to it at all.

Harry went to apologize for his rudeness, but the prince cut him off instead. “What I am getting at,” he clarified, his voice a little surer but eyes barely reaching Harry’s, “is I was wondering if you could give me a few moments to change? Please. In privacy.”

“Oh.” The younger boy furrowed his brow; that wasn’t exactly what he’d been expecting. It seemed like such a simple request, anyway. It wasn’t anything to get so worked up over. But perhaps the prince wasn’t so used to asking for things so personal, afraid that doing so might reveal a small shard of insecurity, showcase a sign of weakness. If Louis’ worried lip and taut stance were anything to go by, Harry had an inkling he wasn’t so far off. So instead of letting out the bubble of laughter that fluttered to his throat, Harry smiled a tad gentler than usual and nodded. “Of course, Prince Louis,” he said, hoping he didn’t sound mocking. “Just let me know when the coast is clear.”

“O—” Louis stuttered, backtracked in a way, as if somewhat surprised by the easy reply. He blinked through a moment of confusion. “Okay. Thank you, Harry.”

Harry smiled again and shook out his curls, looking away as he heard Louis enter the carriage and secure the door behind him. He distracted himself with tying up the horses, double-checking the knots and buckles, and even making the daring move of reaching out and letting his fingers brush through one of their manes. A breath of relief escaped him when the animal didn’t react with an angry neigh or an irritated kick, and he relaxed as the night fell back to silence around him. The air was cool at the late hour of the night, and the sky was so dark it was nearly black. The stars were in hiding that night, blocked out by a thick layer of clouds, and it felt almost foreign without the stars watching over him. But there was something comforting in the silence—the quiet chirps of crickets, the hum of nature as it fall to rest—and it soothed Harry’s nerves that he hadn’t even noticed were so tightly wound.

He relaxed so easily in the night that he nearly jumped when the door to the carriage opened minutes later. It swung out of Louis’ grip and banged against the side of the carriage with an unfortunate crash, making the older boy cringe. “Sorry,” Louis whispered quickly and grimaced at the echo the crash made. “But I have the seats almost ready for the night. Yours just needs fully pulled together. Do you need the carriage to change as well, or?”

“No, no, I’m, erm, I’m good,” Harry replied and headed toward the carriage without another word. Louis was dressed in a simple outfit—a different loose shirt, a pair of pants that hung more loosely than his trousers—but the material looked much too expensive for sleepwear. Harry, for the very first time, wondered if it were odd he didn’t own a separate outfit just to wear to bed. The closest he had was the robe his mother had made him for Christmas the year before and the slippers she had saved and scrounged for nearly three years prior. Louis’ outfit looked not even a day old, and Harry did his best not to gawk as he followed the prince into the carriage.

“I—I did not know if you planned on bringing your own blankets or anything, so I packed some extras in case. I hope that is okay,” Louis said as he sat down on one of the makeshift beds and motioned toward the one seat across from him. It had a couple blankets stacked atop it, along with a small pillow.

Harry tried not to smile too largely, and instead he only nodded. “That’s more than okay.”

“Good.” The prince smiled, but his fatigue was obvious, his eyes tired. “Do you know how to—I guess you do,” Louis trailed into a laugh as Harry pulled the remaining two corner seats together to form a makeshift bed of sorts that blocked the entry to the carriage. Harry tossed up the one blanket to unfold it, rearranged the pillow at one end of the bed, and crawled onto the cushions. Well, he tried, though apparently the bed wasn’t quite long enough for his gangly limbs. He rearranged a couple times, even tried to spread his legs out straight by resting his head flush against the back wall of the carriage, as Louis looked on with something like fond amusement—no, no, just amusement. It couldn’t be fond amusement yet, even if the prince did find the curly-haired boy and his long limbs perhaps a tad endearing.

Harry, though, didn’t notice Louis’ amusement until he was already well and situated under the blankets, curled up on his side. His knees had to be bent just to fit comfortably. “What?” he asked with a confused huff, blinking across the space between their beds.

“Nothing, nothing.” Louis shook his head, his lips still tricked upward with amusement, and crawled under his blankets as well. He shifted onto his side, legs bent at the knee to mirror the boy across from him. He could make out Harry’s outline in the moonlit night, and he frowned not even two minutes later when the younger boy’s form seemed too still. “Are you asleep already, Harry?” he asked in a disbelieving whisper.

Harry hummed an agreement. “Was getting there.”

The prince snorted, only because he’d never known anyone to fall asleep so quickly, but the sound came out too harshly in the quiet.

“What?” Harry wondered, shifting onto an elbow and no longer sounding so asleep. “Sorry, are there rules? Am I supposed to wait until you’ve fallen asleep before I’m allowed to?”

Louis chuckled this time. “Exactly what purpose would that even serve?”

“I—I don’t know,” Harry replied, and Louis could hear the frown in his voice. “I’m supposed to be a knight, aren’t I? Knights protect, so I would… Stay awake until you’re asleep to make sure no harm is done to you?”

“Harry,” the prince said on a laugh, “if you were on watch you would not be allowed to sleep while I am asleep. The whole point of being on watch is to make sure nothing bad happens while the other person is asleep. If that were the case, you could not sleep until I awake.”

“Oh.”

“Precisely.”

A minute of silence passed, until, “Prince Louis?”

“Yes?”

“Am I on watch tonight?”

Louis laughed, a tinkling sort of sound that made his shoulders tremble against the seat cushions. “No, Harry,” he told the younger boy, amusement laced through his words, “you do not have to be on watch during this journey. You are merely my companion, not a knight here to guard me while I sleep.”

“Oh thank the bloody gods,” Harry let out in a relieved breath, and Louis had to bite his lip from laughing anymore. “Sorry,” the younger boy was quick to correct himself, “I just… I don’t think I’d be a very good protector at the moment. I’m not very good at, erm, resisting sleep?”

Louis chuckled again, but he kept his lips closed, muting the sound. “I suppose you lucked out then, Harry,” he said, unable to fight the smile that swept across his lips. “We should sleep now, though, so we can start out tomorrow morning with the sun.”

Harry hummed again, and Louis could imagine the boy’s eyes fluttering shut. He could feel fatigue weighing down his eyelids as well, getting heavier with each passing moment. Silence settled in around them, but before Louis could give in to sleep entirely he tested the quiet, “Harry?”

His only response was a soft, tired grunt.

Louis hesitated for a breath but let go of his tongue just long enough to say, “Thank you.”

“What for?”

The prince shrugged, even though he knew the motion would go unnoticed in the darkness. The thing was, he wasn’t entirely sure why he was thanking the boy, just that the words felt right. Necessary, even. Eventually, though, he responded, “For accompanying me, I suppose. You have already proven better company than an actual knight—so far, that is.”

Harry laughed, a sleepy, breathy sound. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“As you should.”

The boy hummed again, but added on after a beat, “You’re welcome, Prince Louis.”

Louis smiled, despite himself, and pulled his pillow a little closer. “You do not have to address me as prince so often, Harry.”

“Mm,” Harry hummed, voice filled with sleep once more. “Okay. Goodnight, Prince Louis.”

Louis didn’t have the heart to correct him, and he fell asleep that night with a smile adorning his features.

**

“We are moving.”

Harry spared a glance over his shoulder to see Louis poking his head out of the small carriage window that sat just behind the coachman’s bench. “That we are,” he said, a wide grin sweeping across his features.

The prince looked baffled at his surroundings, and he squinted in the morning sunlight, glancing at the passing scenery for a moment before looking back to Harry. “Why are we moving?”

“You said you wanted to start out with the sun,” Harry answered like it were the simplest thing in the world. “The sun is up, therefore our journey continues.”

“Yes, I can see the sun is up, Harry,” Louis replied, not biting back his sarcasm. “But why is it we are moving and I was still asleep?”

Harry shrugged, his eyes trained on the empty road ahead of them. “Didn’t feel like waking you.”

“Oh.”

Harry hummed noncommittally and spared another glance over his shoulder; Louis was looking at him with a contemplative expression, one that left Harry biting his lower lip. “Is that okay?” he wondered, a chilling wave of uncertainty suddenly washing over him. “You hadn’t mentioned needing awakened before starting out, and I kind of assumed it wouldn’t be an issue. But, I didn’t think—”

“Harry, it is not an issue,” Louis cut him off, laughing easily. “Will we be stopping for breakfast soon?”

“As soon as we come upon the next town, yes.”

“Good,” the prince said, heaving a sigh as he settled with his head on his arms along the sill of the window. “I am positively famished this morning. We should have bought some extra biscuits at the very least when we stopped for dinner last night. We should do that today, actually—stock up a bit, do you think?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Harry agreed.

Louis hummed and let their conversation lull into silence in the minutes that followed. The morning was rather quiet, silent in that serene, peaceful sort of way, and they only ever passed the occasional, more humble carriage or a farmer with a small cart. Usually the quiet would have the prince wanting to pull out his hair, as he often found some form of distraction around the castle, something to keep him from noticing just how quiet things really were—he would take up an impromptu music lesson, call in for one of the kingdom’s royal ensembles, find his sisters, wander down to the kitchens just to be away from the silence.

But this morning he was content to let the quiet wear on, content with listening to the rhythmic clomping of the horse’s hooves, and surprised to hear Harry humming a gentle tune under his breath. His lips tricked upward as he listened on, and he recognized the melody, something far and distant from his childhood, but couldn’t quite remember if there were any words to match. It was okay though, he thought; any words felt like they would be too harsh over Harry’s soft hums.

Besides, Louis was content just to listen.

 

Neither spoke again until they entered upon a town some time later. It was a smaller town than any they had passed the day before, littered more so by people on foot than any carriages or carts.

“Perhaps we should leave the carriage here?” Harry suggested before they even turned into the town, just on the outskirts. “To draw less attention I mean, Prince Louis.”

Louis nodded his agreement and ducked back inside the carriage to dress. He stumbled a bit, thrown as Harry pulled the horses to a stumbling stop, but he emerged a minute later in the same dressed down garb he had donned the day before. He smoothed down his shirt after stepping out of the carriage and bit his lip, looking toward Harry. “This looks okay, yes?” he asked.

The younger boy snorted and shook out his curls just to swipe them back across his forehead. A useless action, but an action Louis had already likened to a habit of Harry’s. “You’ll blend right in, Your Majesty,” he encouraged, the hint of a smirk skirting his lips, and jerked his head toward a dusty, foot trodden path that served as the road into town. “Shall we?”

The town had little in the way of establishments but much in the way of commodities. Harry walked through the crowds with a sense of purpose, shoulders stiff, eyes jumping from rack to rack in search of only the food they needed. Louis, though, wandered in an aimless sort of way, trailing behind Harry at first as the crowds and nameless faces and murmured conversations distracted and consumed him entirely. It was a peek into a world he never got to see, and it amused the prince in a way – like finally finding a place he thought he’d only just imagined, made up in his mind. His heart was racing.

With the call of a certain voice, though, Louis didn’t wander too far from the boy he still didn’t know why he’d chosen to travel with; he didn’t linger on the thought, not right then. They eventually picked up a basket of fresh produce, filled their arms with enough pastries to last half a week of breakfasts, and settled beneath a tree just yards from the town’s bustling market. Louis watched on with something akin to awe as he bit into an apple, and Harry couldn’t seem to keep the smile from flourishing across his face.

“You never really step foot into town, do you?” he wondered, more amused than anything else.

“I do, but only on rare occasions. It is always so different, though,” Louis supplied and glanced away from the hoard of people to meet Harry’s gaze. “People in Galisea know who I am. They clear paths and bow and offer me things to try and baskets to take back to the palace. I am rarely afforded the chance to see the townspeople behave as they normally would—like now—you know?”

Harry looked to consider this, his eyes drifting slowly from Louis to the crowd and back again. He stared at Louis for a long moment, and when he spoke his voice was softer, almost like a whisper. “You never get to be anonymous, do you?”

“Not in the heart of Galisea.” Louis frowned briefly before taking another bite of his apple, chewing slowly. He doubted they were even out of the Kingdom of Galisea just yet, but it was nice, walking through a town small enough and distant enough that no one seemed quite able to recognize him as anyone special. It was almost kind of liberating.

“Doesn’t it get infuriating, though?” Harry wondered several moments later, his voice still quiet. “People always putting on an act to impress?”

The prince hummed, biting carefully around the apple core. “At times,” he admitted, shrugging, “but I can usually tell when a person is putting on an act. When you grow up with it, you learn how to tell the real from the fake. A truth from a lie.”

Harry’s lips quirked up at that, just a gentle curve, and he ducked his head. “You’ve already seen through mine,” he murmured, more amused than offended.  

Louis let out a rumbling laugh at that, skin wrinkling around his eyes and all. “I am afraid you are not a very skilled liar, Harry,” he said and received an immediate, drawn-out _heyyyy_ from the other boy. He tried to school his features, but a small smirk still shone through. In attempt to hide it, he traded his apple for one of the croissants from the bag laid between them and bit off a larger chunk than perhaps considered polite in the presence of others. At least it kept his smile from growing too wide.

Silence stretched on for a few minutes after that, but it was comfortable rather than stiff. They each finished up enough to count as breakfast, and Harry got to wrapping up the remaining pastries as Louis rose from the ground. He brushed off his trousers, stretched his arms far above his head while Harry neatly tucked the bag of pastries alongside the produce they hadn’t touched. He looked so focused on making it all fit just so-so, his tongue even caught between his lips in concentration, that Louis couldn’t keep a lazy smile from brushing across his lips. But that just wouldn’t do, smiling over something as simple as a boy placing biscuits in a bloody _basket_. So he, naturally of course, ruined the sight entirely by opening his mouth. “You snore awfully, Harry,” was what came out, breaking the silence. “Did you know?”

“Erm,” Harry hummed, uncertain, and glanced up from the basket. “I do?” He was frowning—no, _no_ , he was _pouting_ , and Louis definitely did not think it cute. Nope. Certainly not adorable.

“Yes,” Louis replied, keeping his tone clipped in hopes that Harry wouldn’t notice how hard he was trying not to grin like a fool. Or giggle. Or something terribly un-prince-like like that. “Honestly,” he continued, straightening his posture, “I was worried you were going to seriously jeopardize my beauty sleep.”

The pout slid from the younger boy’s features, and a humored smile glided easily into its place. “And we can’t be having that now, can we?” he asked, finally standing from the ground as well.

His smile grew into a smirk, and the prince scoffed. “Are you implying, Harry, that I _need_ beauty sleep?”

Harry shrugged a shoulder, his smirk creating a crater of a dimple along his cheek. Louis kind of wanted to poke it. Maybe.

“Your words, not mine,” he said, and the face of offense that Louis made had Harry letting out a bark of laughter.

Louis felt his cheeks warming, which, just, wow, okay, Louis does not _blush_ , okay? But gods be damned, this was the second time already he was fighting off a rush of blood to his cheeks in front of this boy with the too green eyes. He really needed to work on controlling that. He’s eighteen now, anyway; eighteen year old _princes_ do not _blush_.

Clearing his throat (and trying his best to get that rosy tint off of his cheeks), Louis tipped his chin up just a tad, crossed his arms stiffly against his chest. “Perhaps,” he started, and okay maybe he made his tone a taste haughty for effect, “I truly should have considered turning you in for impersonation of a knight. I still could, most likely.”

That stopped the boy’s laughter quickly—very quickly. “You wouldn’t,” he deadpanned, smile falling. But then he hesitated, “… would you?”

He looked scared, defeated even; his shoulders sagged just an inch, his posture turned inward on himself, and the reaction had Louis’ stomach churning in guilt. “No,” he responded, all traces of pride gone as he lowered his voice. “I would not do that, Harry, I promise. I was only teasing, but I suppose… I suppose I did not word it very well.”

He expected the younger boy to agree, maybe even sneer in distaste. Instead, Harry’s lips twitched with just the hint of another smile. “Maybe some of that special skill of yours will rub off on me,” he said, smiling softly. “Might be nice to be able to tell if you’re being quite serious or just trying to pull my leg.”

Louis felt a tiny smile pulling at his lips, as well. “Come on,” he said then, nudging the younger boy lightly with his shoulder. “Let us continue on our travels, shall we?”

A wider smile spread fully across Harry’s face, dimple and all, and he nodded once. “We shall.”

**

They tried, rather.

They returned to the carriage with an air of excitement to continue on their journey, packed up their leftovers for snacks or breakfast the next morning, and started along their way. Louis took the reins (stole them, more like, as Harry insisted he should be the one driving the carriage, arguing that he was “the bloody knight, anyway”—which, well, was not true at all and therefore failed as an argument entirely), and all was well. They made easy conversation, starting up another round of that 20 questions folly Harry had introduced the day before.

Harry was just explaining his peculiar fondness for cats, when they hit a bump—it felt like a boulder—and the right side of the carriage dropped. And by dropped, it _collapsed_. Louis felt his stomach bottom out, like someone had yanked the ground right out from under him, and he yelped as the whole carriage tilted to the right and his entire world shifted, angled, fell along with it. He was sure he was about to be thrown to the dusty road until his right side collided with another body and a strong arm wrapped around him, holding him in place.

The arm pulled him closer, practically enveloping him so that a larger hand could close over his around the reins and yank them to a stumbling, dragging stop. It took a minute for his breathing to slow, for his world to stop spinning and turn upright, and then a voice was pestering him repeatedly, “Are you okay, Louis?”

Louis hesitated, his mind still stuck somewhere else, but nodded despite himself, despite how he was still pressed up against someone else just so as not to slide off of the coachman’s bench entirely. “Fine,” he managed, heart still thumping like a thrill. “I—Fine, yes.”

Except it wasn’t until Harry had unpinned himself from between Louis and the bench’s slightly raised side and had helped the prince down from the angled bench, that he felt remotely close to fine. Ground. Flat ground. Flat ground is nice, he thought, planting his feet firmly and hoping they stayed that way. Right there. On the ground. No more falling.

“Oh,” a voice pulled Louis back into reality at last, grounding him in a way. He shook his head and found Harry a few strides away, bent over near the fallen side of the carriage. The back right wheel had popped off entirely, leaving the carriage tipped at a precarious angle, not at all balanced. Harry was crouched beside the wheel’s place and he frowned, studying it for a moment before glancing farther back down the road. “Shit.”

The wheel was back several yards down the road, and unless it was an illusion put on by the dust still billowing in the air and the curve of the ground, Louis didn’t think the wheel was in too good of a shape. He blanched at just the sight of it. “What did we even hit?”

Harry shook his head, silent, and started a trek down the path they had come, stepping slowly and toeing at the ground. He stopped at one point, just past the wheel. “Think I found the culprit,” he called back, dropping his entire foot into a deep dip in the road—a large enough rut that Louis almost thought Harry was going to fall in. The younger boy smiled, despite the situation, even laughing at the ditch and the wheel that lay several paces away, clearly not in working shape.

“Why are you laughing?” Louis wondered, because his own blood was near boiling.

“It’s all a bit funny, isn’t it?” Harry grinned, left the ditch in favor of picking up the dented wheel. There was a dip in the wheel where it had hit the ditch, the frame warped.

Louis frowned. “This is not funny, Harry.”

The younger boy shrugged, unfazed. “Kind of is, I think.” He held back his smile this time, meeting Louis’ eyes. “I’ll um… Do you think there’s a spare or something in the carriage?”

“I highly doubt it,” Louis said, though he really didn’t know one way or the other. “You can check though.”

Harry nodded, less amused, more focused, and turned his attention toward rummaging through the carriage for anything of any use.

Louis turned away, pinching the bridge of his nose, and took a calming breath. The ground still felt unsettled beneath his feet, and his body was pumping with adrenaline, caught in the moment. But his mind was racing with what this meant. This would surely put them well behind schedule, and how they were to continue on with the carriage in unworkable condition—well, why would the palace give him a carriage unfit for travel, first of all? Was this some kind of test? An added, albeit standard challenge to the OTL quest? Was this—

“You can’t be serious right now,” a vaguely familiar voice cut into Louis’ train of thought, harsh but amused and decidedly not Harry’s. A gentle laugh followed suit and Louis felt a grin pulling at his lips as he turned to find a brunette boy leaning against a tree along the side of the road. The boy—young man, really—had his thick brows bunched up in worry, but he looked onto the scene with folded arms and a glint of humor running across his lips.

“Hi, Liam,” Louis greeted in a saccharine voice.

“Hi, Louis.” Liam smiled almost sweetly but then abruptly frowned, pushing off from the tree to approach the scene more closely. “So, kindly tell me something, won’t you? How have you managed such trouble already? It’s only _day two_.”

“Lovely seeing you, too, Liam,” Louis nearly sang. “I have been well, thanks for asking. How about yourself?”

Liam visibly relaxed and paused just yards from the damaged side of the carriage, turning to face the prince again. “Right, sorry, I’ve been well, too, just… rather busy,” he replied with a flustered sigh. “It’s great that you’re on your One True Love quest. Princess Eleanor of Brira, isn’t it?”

Louis’ stomach jumped at the reminder; he’d nearly forgotten the main reason they were on this journey in the first place. “Yes, Princess Eleanor,” he echoed, smiling lightly. “Mother was thrilled.”

“I can imagine. It’s always easier when you know each other beforehand.” Liam smiled, too, and made to say more, but the door to the carriage opened before he could get out another word.

Harry stumbled out, empty-handed and looking disgruntled, but he stopped suddenly. His eyes fell on Liam’s form. “Erm,” he started, looking to Louis in confusion. “You… found help?”

“In a way.” Louis laughed. “He found us, actually.”

Harry still looked lost—bewildered, even.

“Liam, this is Harry, my traveling companion for the quest, which I am sure you somehow already knew.” Liam smirked slightly, nodding to confirm Louis’ suspicions. “And Harry, this is Liam, my fairy godfather.”

Louis wished he had a way to capture the series of reactions that followed suit on Harry’s face—blank, confusion, bewilderment, disbelief, uncertainty, all falling from one to the next in perfect succession.

It looked as though the poor boy was beginning to question his entire life’s existence when he finally sputtered, “F-fairy godfather?”

Liam knitted his brow. “What other kind of godfather would I be?”

Harry blanched. “But I thought—but fairies aren’t… I mean, well, no, I was wrong, obviously. Sorry, but I-I always thought that fairies were only… folklore?”

Liam heaved a sigh, frowning once more. “Of course,” he muttered and turned his attention back toward the carriage. “I’d almost forgotten that we’d been downsized to mere myth among the commoners. Funny how stories work like that.”

“What do you mean?” Harry blurted out before Liam could reach the damaged side of the carriage.

“That stories can take something real as day and twist it into fiction so easily,” Liam explained with a casual shrug. “Believe you me, fairy godmothers and godfathers used to be more commonplace than knights in kingdom. And you’ve seen how out of control the number of knights has gotten. Bit ridiculous, I think.”

Louis laughed. “It is rather out of hand, is it not? Too many knights to keep track of, Harry. Would you not agree?”

Harry blushed red to the very tips of his ears and hung his head. “I suppose the kingdom could use more, um. Security.”

“To say the least,” the prince agreed, a smug smirk curving his lips.

But Liam stopped Louis before he could say anymore. “Leave the poor lad alone, won’t you, Louis? He was only trying to do a good thing for a friend, nothing else.”

Harry perked up at the mention. “You know Zayn?” he wondered.

“Who?” Liam blinked and then shook his head. “Oh, is that the friend? No, no, fairy godparents might know more than you’d like us to, but we certainly don’t know everything.”

“But of course you know that.” The prince laughed slightly but looked to Harry with a curious glance. “I did not even know that. You were helping out Zayn?”

The curly-haired boy flushed again but nodded, his lip bitten like maybe it wasn’t something he wanted to admit, even now. Perhaps it wasn’t; he had wanted to hold onto his false identity as long as he could that evening in the castle. He had no plans to turn in his friend, to let his friend take the fall by any means, instead letting the prince believe he were truly impersonating a knight.

Had Louis known Harry were only there at his friend’s request, he might not have snapped so quickly. Loyalty was something the prince could understand.

Louis shook his head, though, coming back to the present. Hoping to rid of the blush scattered along Harry’s cheeks, he asked on a different topic entirely, “Anyway, my dearest fairy godfather, do you think you will be able to help us out of our predicament?”

Liam rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t hide the fond look on his face as he turned back to the matter at hand. He crouched down beside the carriage and the mangled wheel that Harry had since brought back from the incident site, studying the two for several moments before speaking again. “I can,” he assessed, glancing up toward the prince. “I’d really rather prefer to put you to work and have you fix this yourself—since that’s actually possible once I straighten out this wheel—but I’m feeling rather generous today.”

Standing up, Liam lifted the wheel in his hands and seemed to send out some magic through his hands alone. The wheel shook in his hold, a pale yellow light encircling it, before popping back into its original state, good as new. He did almost the same to replace the wheel on the carriage, snapping it back into place with a simple click.

“There we go,” Liam settled, clapping his hands cleaned as he turned back toward Louis and Harry. “Good as new and with less work for you, which is really the least I can do.”

“Oh?” The prince lifted a brow. “And why this sudden change of heart?”

“I forgot to send you anything for your birthday,” Liam admitted with an uneasy smile as he came to stand in front of Louis, just to press a quick kiss to his forehead. “Sorry. Been a bit busy at home.”

“I understand,” Louis said with a roll of his eyes. This wasn’t the first time Liam had forgotten, and he suspected it surely wouldn’t be the last. “And it is okay on one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“Find us again later tonight to take a couple letters back home. My sisters get lonely, and you know how worried the Queen gets.”

Liam smiled, clearly familiar. “Anything for Her Majesty, of course,” he said with a slight bow of the head. He then turned to Harry. “Any messages you’d like me to deliver?”

“Oh, erm.” Harry paused for a moment, brow furrowed in thought. “Could you deliver a letter to my mum and one to Zayn, by chance?”

“Certainly. Now,” Liam started and looked toward the sky as though judging the time. “I should really be on my way. Father has us reassigning godparents in the East lands and it’s been a right mess for weeks. So if you’ve nothing else that needs fixing, saving, or all around helping, I’ll see you both later—”

“One last thing,” the prince interrupted.

“Hmm?”

“Tell me we are close to the next village, please.”

Liam smiled, something wider and toothier than before. Genuine. “You’ll be there by dusk,” he said and sauntered to the edge of the woods, vanishing with a breath.

The prince, used to such things, sighed with relief. “Thank the gods,” he said, turning to Harry with a smile. “Let us get on with it, shall we? I would like to get there before all the shops close up for the evening.”

“We’re going shopping?” Harry asked, his brow furrowed as he watched the prince climb back up onto the fixed carriage.

Louis glanced back to Harry with a secretive sort of smile once he was seated. “Yes,” he agreed and took the reins in his hands. “Not for anything too extravagant, mind, but I think you will appreciate it.”

The younger boy looked even more confused than before, and Louis had to bite back a short laugh. “Come along, Harry,” he coaxed with a pat on the empty seat beside him. “Before the sun beats us to it.”

Harry, Louis noticed, didn’t need to be told twice.

~*~

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! You can find us on tumblr: [bitmischievous](http://bitmischievous.tumblr.com) and [cheekiestcheeky](http://cheekiestcheeky.tumblr.com)


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